Why Didn't You Trust Me?
by MarianneLinley and SarahQuinn
Summary: A trial left her banished from the wizarding world, scorned. Now eight years later the wizarding world needs her help in fighting a monster that was thought to have been dead twice. Will she come back to help those she once trusted and loved?
1. The Begining After the End

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, Warner Bros., Inc., and others. We are not making any money off this story do not intend any copyright or trademark infringement.

Authors' Notes:

Welcome back to anyone who is reading this still! This is the same story that we began…oh…four or five years ago. In case you haven't been reading our profile, here's the deal: we began writing this story for fun, and did not have much of an idea where it was going, or how it was going to get there. After we finally made up a plot, we realized that we had, in some areas, written ourselves into a proverbial corner. That had to be undone. After much delay, we are ready to begin posting the "fixed" version of the story. Thanks for anyone who has continued to read this despite embarrassingly long delays, and thanks to everyone who reviewed. Please do it again, as a lot of work and time has gone into fixing this up, and we would really appreciate feedback! Don't worry, we should be back up to about where we left off last time in no time at all. Thanks, happy reading! - MarianneLinley and SarahQuinn

Chapter 1: The Beginning After the End

The last rays of sunlight were just fading over the trees of the Forbidden Forest, casting eerie, elongated shadows of trees over the schoolyard grounds. The heat of the summer day dissipated into the cool crispness of the evening, a sure sign of the upcoming fall. A slight figure trudged over the exhausted grounds, headed for the entrance door to the castle.

She looked up at the golden sunlight shimmering hopefully on the stone walls of Hogwarts. She strode purposefully, though the strain of her brisk pace was evidenced on her tired features. As she walked, her long brown hair shortened to bubblegum-pink spikes; her pallid complexion resumed its natural rosy glow, and her brown eyes changed to a strikingly light blue, a new color that she had recently begun experimenting with. Tonks turned and ran lightly up the steps leading to the entry hall, holding her tattered brown coat close to her body.

The front door opened as she approached, and an aged woman beckoned to her with her eyes, then opened the door further and motioned for her to enter.

"He has been waiting for you," McGonagall said with no preamble, hustling the younger woman inside. They turned and began walking through the entry hall. "News has not been good here, as I am sure you have caught word of by now. We have managed to confirm the existence of the orb, but Remus still has not been able to find any more information about its magical properties. So we need Tobbletop -- "

"How is she?" Tonks interrupted, concern darkening her face.

McGonagall paused, frowning. "Not well," she responded finally, as they turned the corner and came to face the gargoyle statue that led up to Dumbledore's office.

Tonks hesitated. "The potions…?" she began, then stopped at the professor's severe look.

"She is not well, despite our best attempts. Skittles."

The gargoyle leapt to life, moving aside and revealing a long revolving staircase. The two women stepped onto it, making their way to the door at the top. Tonks lapsed into silence, thinking. Then she spoke again, as they reached the door to Dumbledore's office. "But, since she isn't …_well_, as you say, then what are we going to do to infiltrate You-Know-Who's meetings and find out about the orb?" McGonagall raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you want _me_ to --?"

The door opened. "I'm hoping that will not be necessary," a new, older voice said. "I need you back in America, with Sirius." Dumbledore rose from his seat behind his desk and went to greet the women. "However, some interesting news has just reached me, from Sirius, in fact. Apparently, he has discovered another witch in San Francisco, apart from the Death Eaters we knew were there. One that, perhaps, we can trust." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, looking at her over the top of his spectacles.

Tonks frowned. "Professor, are you sure--" Another look from McGonagall silenced her.

Dumbledore gave them a tight smile. "I am sure that if we are able to gain her trust, then our problem in this matter will be solved."

* * *

Hermione dreamed. An elderly woman sat across from her on a sofa. On the coffee table that separated them lay an untouched pot of tea and several round eggs. For some reason that Hermione was not able to ascertain, she felt irrationally angry.

She extended her hand to the woman, frowning crossly. "Give it back to me."

The woman smiled impishly, but said nothing.

Hermione grew more frustrated. Trembling, she again demanded, "Give it here!"

The woman positively burst out laughing at this, and Hermione lowered her arm. The woman shook her head, wiping a tear from her eyes. Hermione bit her lip furiously. Feeling almost close to tears herself, she raised her arm again. "Please--"

The woman smiled again. "Silly girl," she said, angling her head down to look at Hermione over the tops of her glasses, "you have no idea what you want."

Hermione hesitated briefly. What did she want from the woman? She frowned. Though she wasn't sure, she knew that it was imperative that she got it. "You have what I want."

The woman rose quickly from her seat, and for the first time, Hermione took note of her clothes. Instead of a dress, she was wearing a toga, or a robe of some sort. She leaned across the table towards Hermione. She reached out with the speed of a snake striking, and her bony hands wrapped around Hermione's arms. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as she stared into the older woman's pale blue eyes.

"It was not by chance that we have met, my dear. You are young, you are foolish." She straightened, and Hermione began breathing again. "You do not know what you are asking for."

Hermione broke her gaze away from the woman's intense stare, looking instead at the plaid sofa she was sitting on. The woman turned away and began walking across the polished wood floor, towards the heavily curtained windows. Hermione chanced a quick glance at her, still unsettled. From this angle, she could see something in her pocket. Hermione squinted at it. A stick? That was odd, she thought. Something heavy seemed to settle in her stomach, and her heart beat faster. _No, not just a stick!_ Hermione realized suddenly, frantically. She rose from her seat, startled. "You have a -- " she began, but the woman spoke over her.

"I am going to help you get what you are asking for," she cried, whirling around, her eyes flashing, and she tore the burgundy curtain from the window. Bright light streamed in, blinding Hermione. She reacted quickly, bringing her hands up to shield her eyes, and --

Hermione woke with a start, tangled in her bed sheets, and tried to sit up as she caught her breath. A small but bright ray of light streamed across her face from her partially-opened blinds. She took a deep breath, steadying herself from the turbulent dream. It was the third time this week that she had dreamt of the woman, the tiny living room. The third time this week that she had demanded and pleaded with the woman for something, something that Hermione knew was terribly important, but could not identify.

It was the first time the woman had responded to her demands with anything but laughter.

She sighed again, her heart finally returning to its normal pace as she ran a hand through her shoulder length, bushy brown hair. Turning her head, she saw the green neon lights of her clock. They read eleven twenty-seven.

Hermione tripped in her haste to untangle the sheets from around her legs. "Eleven twenty-seven! Geez! Why didn't my alarm go off?"

"Because I turned it off, Herm. You need to get some rest. You haven't gotten enough sleep in days."

Hermione looked up as a woman entered her room, wearing a bathrobe. She yawned and rubbed her head of short blonde hair. "Besides, I wanted to sleep in, and you know I can never get any rest once you start banging around the house in the morning."

"Parker! You know I've got a very important meeting today at noon. I've been waiting for this opportunity for my whole life." Hermione scrambled to her feet and dashed to her closet, throwing the doors open. Where in God's name was her blue suit? "Just because you have mornings off doesn't mean that the rest of the world doesn't get up early to work!" she said angrily from inside the closet.

"Looking for anything in par-tic-u-lar?" Parker drawled from behind her. Something in her tone made Hermione turn, and she saw her roommate holding up her suit, freshly ironed. Hermione grabbed it, and without another word, sprinted into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her in her haste.

Parker rolled her eyes at the closed door, and turned to Hermione's unkempt bed. A smile starting on her face, she pulled up the sheets. "You've waited you're whole life to be a doctor? Aren't you already a doctor?" she called to the closed door, as she turned back around and leaned back on the bed.

The response was muffled. "Well, maybe not my whole life. But a good seven years of it. And yes, I'm already a doctor, but I'm going for a higher position. I have to take a quick shower. Be useful and get me some breakfast or something?"

"Fine. Fine. If you're going to be like that," Parker answered, raising her hands in defeat, as though Hermione could see her. She stood and straightened her robe. "Oh, and by the way, the hospital called. They pushed the meeting back to one-thirty," she called as she left the room.

Hermione fell out of the bathroom, one hand on the doorknob, the other still holding the high heel that she had been struggling in to. "You could have told me that sooner, you know," she said quietly, hopping across the room, and falling onto the bed in relief.

* * *

"Great job, Hermione. I think you've got a great shot at the chief resident job," exclaimed Tom Marks, her supervisor.

"Thank you, Mr. Marks," replied Hermione. "I should be getting back to my rounds. Have a good day, Tom."

She walked out of his office and closed the door behind her, then made her way to the elevator at the end of the hall. She pushed the call button, the leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes. She breathed a sigh of relief, a smile upturning the corners of her mouth. She was happy. For the first time in years, Hermione felt genuinely happy.

Maybe things were going to start going right again.

Maybe she would get her new job.

Maybe things would start to be how she had always wanted them to be.

The elevator bell rang and she opened her eyes. She pushed off the wall as the door opened. A young man stepped out of the elevator, staring down at the chart in his hands. He had unruly black hair, and brownish-green eyes, and when he wore the glasses that he usually kept in his pocket, he almost reminded Hermione of….

_Stop that_, she ordered herself.

The eager new nurse looked up at her, his pleasant surprise evident in his boyish smile. "Oh, hey, Dr. Granger…"

"Harvey," she said in reply, smiling briefly. "Good to see you."

He moved off quickly down the hall and Hermione entered the elevator, pushing a button. She sighed. Maybe….

Hermione got off the elevator at the first floor and headed down a long hallway towards the front desk. A large balding man sat behind it speaking on the phone.

"Yes Mrs. Baker... Yes... Yes ma'am. All right. Yes. Have a great day. Buh-bye." The man hung up the phone and turned to Hermione, "Good afternoon, Dr. Granger. What can I do you for... I mean, what can I do for you?"

Hermione bit her lower lip, grinning at him, and trying not to laugh. The amiable older man was always working hard at his receptionist post, appeasing the clients, but often seemed awkward, eager, and anxious in face-to-face conversation. "Do you know if the labs for the girl in room one-oh-three got sent down?"

He nodded as he pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Yes. They were sent down about fifteen minutes ago. I put them with her chart," he answered, smiling timidly.

"You are a lifesaver, Jerry," she said coyly, smiling, then turned and walked briskly to room 103, quickly picking up the chart on the way.

Hermione pushed the door open and found a little girl about the age of ten sitting in bed, with a worried father sitting next to her in a chair. She paused at the end of the bed, scanning the chart.

"All right. I reviewed your chart Angela, and everything is perfect, but I would like to keep you overnight, just for observation."

The father stood. "Does she have to stay overnight if she's fine?"

"She doesn't have to, but I would recommend it," replied Hermione.

"Okay." The father sat back down and took the girl's hand in his.

Hermione was on her way to the doctor's lounge when Jerry called to her from the front desk.

"Uh... Dr. Granger? There's a man here to see you."

"Get Dr. Maredon, or a first year med student or someone. I'm off in a minute," said Hermione, not looking at him.

"Uh... I'd love to do that Dr. Granger, b-but he specifically asked for you, and, um, says that he only wants to be treated by you."

Hermione looked up in surprise at the frantic worry in Jerry's voice. He shifted uncomfortably behind the counter, and she saw him reach for his handkerchief. What got him so upset? she wondered.

"He's, um, in the waiting room, Dr. Granger," the man said, mopping his forehead, and then pushing a chart across the counter towards her.

Hermione studied the man for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Fine, don't worry about it, Jerry." She picked up the proffered chart and walked down the hall to the waiting room. She pushed open the door and walked in with her head down, looking at the chart. When she saw the name of the patient, she felt her heart stop in her chest, and she blinked rapidly, as if trying to clear the sight of it from her eyes. But, no, when she looked a second time, it hadn't changed. Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat and looked up slowly. She was frozen to the spot. In waiting room, sitting patiently in front of her, was an elderly man with a silver beard long enough to be tucked into his belt.

When Dumbledore spoke his voice was calm and even. "Hello, Hermione."

With a start, Hermione start breathing again, quickly. Her eyes narrowed. Somehow, she found her voice. "What do you want?" she spat out, her hands clenching around the clipboard.

"Could we go talk somewhere in private?" the old man asked quietly. Hermione thought she detected a hint of – could it be?—_sadness_ in his voice.

Unwittingly, a snarl twisted her fair features. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side. She looked at Dumbledore. He looked changed very little since the last time she had seen him – almost eight years ago. Her frown deepened. The eight hardest years of her life, through which she had struggled daily to continue living to see another sunrise. And after eight years, he dared to sit before her, looking calmly unruffled, and _sad_. As if she was something tragic. Hermione blinked, glaring. He may not be different, but she was not the same Hermione he had sent away.

Dumbledore looked up gently, expectantly, at Hermione, one eyebrow raised in submissive politeness. _No_, Hermione thought. _I will not let this happen. No._

"No," she whispered.

She turned around, breaking his gaze on her, pulled the door open and walked down the hall to the doctor's lounge. Hermione quickly grabbed her belongings and rushed into the elevator, jamming the button repeatedly for the parking garage, frustrated at the slowness of the response. Finally, the doors closed, and she closed her eyes, fighting back tears and unwanted memories. The doors slid back open, and she hurried to her car, only to spot her old professor right beside it. Hermione threw her belongings on the ground, in a childish display of her anger, and glared at the old man. She beat her arms furiously, her eyes diffused with tears.

"Why are you here? Why the hell are you here? If you are hurt and need medical attention, why would you come here? Why would you come to me after what happened?"

Dumbledore remained irritatingly calm. "Because I need your help."

Hermione took a step back, her shock and outrage evident on her face. "My help? You need my help? No, you don't need my help, you need a shrink. You really need a shrink if you think that you can come here, ask for my help, and get it in a snap. Besides, why would you want the help of a _traitor_?" Hermione snarled maliciously. She bent down and grabbed her purse and jacket from the ground, then pushed past Dumbledore towards her car, dismissing him. She put her key in the door lock.

"You aren't a traitor. I know that now. We…" He paused when she didn't turn back to him, or even so much as acknowledge his words. "The Wizarding world is in danger. Voldemort wasn't completely destroyed."

She paused with struggling with her key for a moment as his words took effect. Then she moved again, this time succeeding in unlocking the door. She opened it and shoved her belongings into the passenger seat.

"I don't care," she said softly.

There was a pause. Then, "Harry and Ron would like to see you again."

At this, Hermione turned around in a flash. "Bullshit!" she screamed at him. "They believed it was true. Just as you did. You want to know something funny? The only one who seemed to believe my side of the story was Snape. You know why? Because he was there, too. Do you know what it feels like to know that your friends don't believe in you? No matter how hard you try and explain it; there will always be that little seed of doubt, no matter how many years pass, how many apologies are given, and how many feelings you express. It will never go away! How could you trust and forgive Snape after the things he'd done and--," she choked suddenly, "and not trust and forgive me?" she whispered.

Dumbledore paused again, his eyes downcast. He raised them to meet hers. "I trust you now. I forgive you now. This will affect the Muggle world as well. You must know that."

Hermione turned her back on him. "It is a little late for trust and forgiveness. And as for the effects, I'll deal with it when it comes. But for now the whole damn Wizarding world can go to hell. It turned it's back on me once I'm not going to set myself up for that again." Without another word, Hermione got in her car backed quickly out of her parking spot, briefly considering indulging her urge to hit Dumbledore with her car. But by the time she had straightened out her car, the old man had disappeared.

* * *

Once she was home she threw herself down on her bed, unable to hold back the haunting memories.

_Hermione was sat up in her bed in the infirmary. Ron and Harry were there, in chairs beside her._

"_We're so glad to have you back, Hermione!" Harry held her hand and squeezed it gently as he spoke._

_The picture faded into black and all she heard were voices._

" _I saw it plain as day. What are we going to do? Do you think the kidnapping was planned?" Madam Pomfrey asked._

"_We will do nothing. I'll watch her for a while. See if she changes in behavior. I don't want to believe this. It seems that she wouldn't do something like this, being the responsible person that she is. But after her parents were killed everything changed in her life," replied Dumbledore. _

_Their voices faded and a new picture emerged. It was a circular room with rows after rows of seats. The room was filled with people glaring coldly down at her._

"_You, Hermione Granger, are charged with fraternizing with the Dark Lord and his forces. Seeing as how we have no real evidence, except for the Dark Mark on your right forearm, your punishment cannot be as severe as Azkaban. Instead, as your punishment, your wand shall be snapped and you are hereby to be banished for the Wizarding world." Cornelius Fudge said triumphantly, glaring maliciously at her from his pedestal._

_If only they knew…_

_Hermione looked to her left. Tears welled up in her eyes as she saw Harry's cold, indifferent eyes. Beside him, Ron had his head down. Professor Dumbledore looked at her sadly. Next to Dumbledore, Snape was on his feet yelling at Fudge._

"_She isn't a traitor. That mark wasn't..." Snape was cut off by Dumbledore, who stood and told Snape to sit down._

_Hermione filled her eyes with Harry, willing him to look at her, believe her. _I wouldn't ever do anything like that, Harry, please believe me._ She opened her mouth to say the words, but couldn't make her mind comply. Suddenly, two men were at her sides, lifting her from her seat and hustling her, numb, from the chamber. The last thing she saw before the guards took her away was a single tear roll down Harry's cheek._

Hermione buried her face in her pillow, willing sleep to come. But as hard as she tried, she couldn't push the memory of Harry's face from her mind, unable to even look at her, in his heart believing she had betrayed him in the worst way.

Neither could she fathom why Dumbledore would return to her, after all that had happened, and ask for her help.

Hermione sighed, turning over and switching off the lights in her room, pulling her pillow over her head. She lay there breathing slowly, but not sleeping, the constriction in her chest preventing any such rest.


	2. Dr Granger and Mr Black

Disclaimers at the beginning of chapter 1.

Chapter 2: Dr. Granger & Mr. Black

For once, it was Parker who woke Hermione the next morning. She woke to her shoulder being shaken urgently, and Parker's pleading voice.

"C'mon, Herm, wake up, I need help," she whined.

Hermione looked at her blearily through two sleepy eyes. "What?" she mumbled.

"I have a job at noon and I overslept and I _need_ you to help count out the platters and arrange the food!"

Hermione glanced over at her clock. Eight-thirty. She groaned and flopped back against her bed. "Isn't it Saturday?" she asked.

"Please, Hermione? I'm sorry and I'll never make you work on a Saturday ever, ever again?"

Smiling, Hermione rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up to look at the anxious blonde woman. "You've got that right. If I get my new job, I won't be here on Saturdays anymore."

Parker smiled and pulled her out of bed, throwing her a bathrobe. "Yeah, so, tell me how that went. What happened yesterday? By the time I got home you were already in bed."

Hermione's face darkened as the memories of the day before returned to her. Dumbledore, coming to see her after eight years. Asking for her help. His words from the day before returned to her: _This will affect the Muggle world, as well. You must know that._

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and looked at Parker, who was staring at her inquisitively from the doorway.

"Something wrong? Was your interview really that bad?"

Hermione forced a smile onto her frozen face. "No, no, it was great," she said honestly. "Just an…odd dream got me down, I guess."

Parker frowned suddenly. "The old woman again?" She quickly averted her eyes. "Has she said anything to you yet?"

"Nope," Hermione lied easily, crossing the room to grab Parker's arm and lead her to the kitchen. The smell of quiche wafted from the oven. Parker set to work immediately, mixing cream for éclairs, and melting a pot of chocolate on the stove. Hermione grabbed a knife and began to cut the crust off of a stack of bread that Parker had laid out for tea sandwiches.

"You know, some people believe that dreams have some, I don't know, _meaning_," Parker said casually.

Hermione didn't say anything. After a few months in Trelawney's class, she knew that "some people" thought that dreams could have all sorts of meanings. But she believed it less now than she had then.

"Do you think so?" Hermione replied, just as nonchalantly. Parker shrugged, returning her attention to her chocolate.

They lapsed into silence. Hermione hadn't thought about the Wizarding world for a while. It had taken her such a long time to forget. And everything was getting so much better. She almost had the job she always wanted. That is, the job that she had wanted ever since resuming a non-magical life. But why would Dumbledore show up now? He had thought she was a traitor that day eight years ago. Why ask for her help?

Parker sighed loudly and set her spoon down on the stove, snapping Hermione out of her reverie. Hermione blinked, startled, and looked up. Parker was studying her, a frown on her face, and her arms crossed over her chest.

"Okay, something is definitely up." Hermione's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Don't give me that face!" Parker said when she opened her mouth to protest. "Look at you! You're still in your suit. You look like hell. What happened at the meeting? Or, was it something not work-related that got you so upset?"

Hermione turned back to the sandwiches and began cutting again. Parker was her closest friend and confidant, but only for strictly Muggle matters. She had never wanted to look back on her old life, and she certainly didn't want her roommate to think she was crazy. "Thanks for the compliment. The meeting went fine but I won't know if I get the job until Friday. I guess I'm just worried," Hermione replied.

Parker blew up at her bangs in exasperation. "Okay, so now I know it definitely has _nothing _to do with the job. What's bothering you, Doc?" She waved a chocolate-covered spoon in her direction threateningly. "I've known you too long to be fooled by your moods. And it wasn't the dream that messed you up, you were obviously upset about something _before _you went to bed," she said, gesturing at Hermione's suit.

"It's really nothing." Parker gave her a look of disbelief. "Uh..." Hermione paused, thinking frantically. "One of my patients died," she lied, looking away, and trying unsuccessfully to not feel guilty about lying to her closest friend. Parker didn't know about the Wizarding world and what had happened there. All she new about Hermione's life before she came to San Francisco was that she had lived in England. Barely anything else.

She heard Parker drop the spoon back on the stove. "Oh Hermione, I'm sorry," Parker said compassionately, and move across the kitchen to give Hermione a hug.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Yeah, don't worry about it. Maybe I should go to work today, after all. I mean, they might need some extra help."

She went to her room and changed her clothes. She couldn't take sympathy right now from anyone, even though Parker had no idea about the real cause of her sadness. She hadn't been able to handle that for the past eight years. When someone else feels sorry for you, she reasoned, you begin to feel sorry for yourself. And then you can never move on. She left the apartment ten minutes later for the hospital, leaving a confused Parker looking after her.

* * *

It was crazy when Hermione arrived at he ER. Doctors were hurrying around trying to get to trauma rooms and nurses were frantically trying to find supplies that were needed.

Melony, the receptionist that day, spotted her and yelled, "Dr. Granger, what the hell are you doing here today?

Hermione smiled wanly. "You know, just couldn't wait to get back here. Looks busy today."

Melony rolled her eyes. "Saturday is always miserable in the ER. As long as you're here, you're needed in trauma one. Some kind of fight in the streets today, they're flooding in." She paused, frowning. "We aren't really sure what's wrong with all of them, though."

Hermione smirked officiously. "Good thing I'm here, then," she replied. "Trauma one it is." The doctor dropped her belongings quickly in the lounge and hurried to the trauma one room. "What have we got?" Hermione asked, walking into the room.

"Dr. Granger?" a nurse asked in surprise. It was Harvey. Her rushed to grab her surgical gown. Another nurse placed a mask on her face and gave her some gloves.

"That's right, surprise, what've we got here?" Hermione asked, leaping into action. _This feels so right_, she thought. Her work made her come alive, and always enabled her to forget about her past.

Harvey turned and gestured. "A Caucasian male, mid-forties, having violent seizures and many shallow cuts all over his body."

Hermione frowned. "What is the cause?"

Harvey frowned. "Unknown." He backed away a little, looking at Hermione sheepishly. Hermione frowned at him. "He, uh, thinks that I'm someone he knows. Kept calling me 'Harry' or something. So he's kind of delirious, too. Thinks I'm in danger."

Hermione's eyes widened and she rushed forward to look at the patient. For the second time in two days, her heart stopped. "Sirius," she breathed.

Harvey nodded. "Yeah, I think it is pretty serious."

Hermione blinked uncomprehendingly, then looked up at the young nurse. "Uh... Was there anything like an I.D. found?"

But she didn't hear his response. She had moved aside his dark robes, and there, poking out of his pocket, was a wand. She breathed in quickly, looking up at Harvey. She couldn't let him see it.

"Harvey…can you, um, get some Band-aids?"

Harvey frowned. "_Band-aids?"_ He repeated incredulously.

She nodded, swallowing. "Yes, you know, for the more-shallow of the shallow cuts."

He frowned, but moved to the cabinets on the other side of the room. Hermione slowly reached down to Sirius' wand. "What, like these?" Harvey asked, turning back to her. Hermione froze and quickly withdrew her hand, and waved away what he was holding up.

"No, no, the little ones."

"I don't think we have any in here, Dr. Granger."

Hermione let out her breath in exasperation. "Well, then go get some from the pediatric ward! Come on, Harvey, help me out here!"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied quickly, meekly, and all but ran from the room.

As soon as he was gone, Hermione turned back to the prone man. Reaching quickly into the pocket of his jacket, she snatched the wand, and stared at it, almost afraid. She licked her dry lips, hands shaking. _Never thought I would hold one of these again_, she thought. But now what? He was still having seizures. She wanted to stop them, and was fairly confident that Muggle medicine would not do the trick.

But could she bring herself to do magic?

She held the wand delicately in both hands, as if it was a bomb that she was afraid would go off. Taking a steadying breath, she extended one shaking hand, and pointed the wand at his chest.

"Finite-- " she whispered haltingly, then stopped. She took a deep breath, and tried again: "Finit--"

Hermione stopped, closing her eyes, her arm sagging. She couldn't do it. She couldn't make herself do magic again. _Hell, for all I know_, she thought_, maybe I don't even _have_ magic any more. _

Suddenly a strong, warm hand grabbed her wrist. She gasped and looked down. Sirius was looking at her with wide, wild eyes. Still spasming, he directed her hand, holding the wand, over his chest.

He couldn't speak well around the breathing tube they had put in his throat, and the first time he tried, he choked and stopped short. But, trying again, he mouthed the words – "_Finite Incantatem_" – and the jerking stopped.

Looking relieved, he closed his eyes, and his head fell back against the bed. He was unconscious.

Shaken, Hermione stared at the older man. Had he recognized her? Had he even noticed she was there? And, more importantly, _what was he doing there_?

Quickly trying to collect herself, she pocketed the wand, just as Harvey re-entered the room. He stopped, looking at Sirius, surprised.

"He's better," he said. "What did you give him?"

Hermione didn't respond, her eyes not leaving Sirius' face.

"Dr. Granger?" Harvey pressed.

Hermione's head snapped up. "What? What did I give him?" When Harvey nodded, clearly confused by her behavior, she flashed him a cheeky smile, trying to collect herself. "Oh, you know, just a dose of the old Granger charm. Works every time. That, and a tranquilizer, he really was starting to calm down on his own anyways, didn't need much of my help at all."

Harvey's eyebrows shot up. "Really? Dr. Marsden was in here briefly, he said it was like nothing he had ever seen before. You think it was just a fluke, or, geez, we should run tests, he might relapse, right? I mean, don't you think-- "

"I think you should give him stitches and put those Band-aids to good use," Hermione responded, cutting him off. "I don't know what Marsden was on about, but he was only in shock, and now he's gotten over it. Nothing to worry about, Harvey."

Harvey looked a little surprised at her indifference, but didn't pursue it further. Hermione quietly let out a breath she had been holding. The last thing she wanted was tests being run on wizards. Harvey began to prepare for the stitches as Hermione made several marks on Sirius's chart, noting that he was stable and should expect a quick recovery.

As Hermione left the room to request an available room for Sirius to be moved to, she couldn't stop herself from turning back and looking through the glass windows of the door at the sleeping form. _Why? _She wondered to herself, before tearing her eyes away and heading to the front desk. Her mind was blank, seemingly in shock after her second surprise encounter in two days, after eight years of silence. She could feel the weight of Sirius's wand against her leg as she walked, and, for the first time in a long time, Hermione was suddenly afraid. _What was going on?

* * *

_

Melony found Hermione later that afternoon in the lounge. Despite the receptionist's earlier proclamation that Saturdays were always busy, after the initial influx of patients that morning from the street fight, the day had been relatively slow. And Hermione had found herself with altogether too much time alone, too much time to think and wonder and guess about the events of the past two days. Hermione looked up from her cup of watery coffee as the receptionist approached her, calling her name.

"Dr. Granger. The nurses' station on the sixth floor called. The patient you worked on this morning is awake. He's in room six twenty-eight."

Hermione swallowed. "Is there something else wrong with him? I mean," she cleared her throat delicately, "do I have to go see him?"

Melony gave her a surprised look. "He is your patient, don't you want to check up on him, or discharge him, or whatever he needs?"

Hermione groaned and closed her eyes. "Have someone else do it. Have Marsden do it, I don't care."

The receptionist walked over to her, giving her a hard shake before pulling her to her feet. "We didn't ask for you to come in today, _Dr. Granger_, but since you did it would be nice for you to _do your job_." She gave Hermione a hard look, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's not like you to be slacking, so I'll overlook your insolence today. But I'm sure you know that we can't have someone unreliable going for the chief residency position."

Hermione nodded her head, exhaling softly. Of course, she would have to go check in on her patient – after all, the hospital didn't know that Sirius had been one of the people who had been there eight years ago when she ad been banished from everything important in her life. Hell, she thought wryly, they probably wouldn't care even if they did know.

"Of course, Melony, you're right, I've just been a little out of it today, I really don't know why I chose today to come in for extra work." She smiled, hoping to evoke a similar response from the older woman. To her relief, Melony returned the smile.

"Don't think anything of it, Dr. Granger. Why don't you just finish up with Mr. Black and then get yourself home to get some rest? God knows you deserve it."

"Thanks," Hermione responded, forcing another smile, as she set her cup of coffee down and walked past the receptionist out of the lounge and to the elevator and stepped in. The trip to the sixth floor seemed to take much les time than it usually did, and when she got there, Hermione wildly considered pushing the button for the first floor, and maybe taking the stairs up instead. _Why didn't I think of that before? _Hermione thought wistfully, stepping out of the elevator resignedly, and determining to just get through the encounter as quickly as she could. After all, she reasoned, it wasn't something that she could really run from, unless she wanted to run all the way out of San Francisco and start over again. She would just have to accept that the Wizarding world had again found its way into her life. _But that doesn't mean that I have to help them, _she thought.

The door to room six twenty-eight was open. Hermione approached it slowly, then peeked in to the room. Sirius was awake in his bed, examining something in his hands. She couldn't see what it was. She stepped closer, and leaned against the doorjamb, not making a sound, and realized that it was the television remote. He seemed thoroughly confused by it, running his fingers along the buttons and pressing a few tentatively. After a moment, he turned it over and began opened the battery compartment.

"Amazing, isn't it?"

Hermione jumped when Sirius spoke. She had been sure that he hadn't noticed her there. "What?" she responded, after an all-too-long pause that revealed her surprise.

Finally he looked up at her, his dark eyes boring into her own, lighter brown ones. Hermione swallowed a lump in her throat.

"We claim to be so superior to Muggles, and yet here I am in a Muggle hospital, and for the life of me I can't figure out what the hell this little thing does."

He threw the remote down on the nightstand, and crossed his arms, giving her a more serious look.

"And look at you. Fancy meeting you here, doctor."

Hermione straightened up, and stepped into the room. "The pleasure is mine, I'm sure," she responded glibly. She walked coolly to the foot of his bed and picked up the chart that lay there, and began flipping through it. "I must say I was a little surprised to see you, this is a bit out of your territory, isn't it?"

A sarcastic smile twisted Sirius's lips. "I come all this way to see you, show up bloody and dying on your doorstep, and all you have to say is that you're a little surprised? I'm disappointed."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I must say, it would have been a bit more of a shock if our dear old headmaster hadn't spoiled the anticipation."

Sirius's eyes flickered, and for a moment he looked a little more vulnerable. He hadn't been expecting her to say that, Hermione noted, but he quickly covered his own surprise with an easy grin.

"He was here, was he? Have anything interesting to say?" He paused, gauging her expression, before adding in an entirely too casual tone, "I don't suppose he's still around, visiting or something?"

Hermione licked her lips, which suddenly felt dry. Sirius seemed so nervous.

"I don't usually keep tabs on him," she replied, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

"Excuse me," he replied coolly. "I had forgotten that you don't give a shit about what happens to any of us anymore."

"Well, up until yesterday, the feeling was mutual."

"Touché, Miss Granger." He stretched luxuriously. "So, I assume you've come to give me the bad news. What is it? Pneumonia? Syphilis? Meningitis? How long do I have?"

"You're fine," Hermione replied shortly, annoyed. "Perfect health. No thanks to modern medicine."

"That's what I was hoping you would say," he smiled. "What about Wood?"

"What about what wood?" Hermione responded uncomprehendingly.

"I can't be the only one you took in?" he responded incredulously.

"No," Hermione answered harshly. "I'll let you know that your little squabble injured no less than eleven Muggle bystanders, three of them critically!"

Sirius raised his eyebrows at her, clearly expecting her to list other victims. When she didn't speak, he asked again, "But did you get Wood? He was unconscious."

"Wood? Wood who?"

"Oliver Wood!" Sirius exploded. "He was right out there next to me, how could you possibly take me in and not him!"

Hermione stood up straighter. "I did not take anyone in, for your information, I just repaired the broken people they brought me. I never saw Oliver Wood."

When he looked at her disbelievingly, she made an effort to wipe the anger from her face. "Honestly," she said.

Now his face took on a worried expression. "You're sure Dumbledore isn't around?"

She frowned again. "Positive."

"Damn it!" he swore. "Well?" he demanded suddenly, expectantly, glaring at her.

"Huh?"

"Can I go," he snarled, "Doctor?" He seemed to put every ounce of disdain and sarcasm that he could into the last word. "I actually have people relying on me, friends that I need to return to. You know," he added, "I'm not into just walking out on everyone and leaving them to the wolves, not if there's something I can do to save them." He leered at her. "No matter how nice and safe this charming little Muggle hospital is."

The charts dropped from Hermione's hands and crashed onto the ground. Her face was white. "How dare you?" she whispered. Sirius stared at her, meeting her gaze evenly, calmly.

"How dare I?" he returned, mockingly. "You're quite right! How dare I utter the truth, in the presence of one who is so content to continue living behind the protection of lies?"

Hermione mouthed wordlessly at him. How could he say that? After being so ready to unceremoniously dump her on the side of the road along with the rest of the Wizarding world for a crime she had not committed, how dare he insinuate now that it was her comfort and cowardice that kept her from returning to their aid?

Her hands balled into fists at her sides. "How can you say that?" she shouted. "You expect me to jump at the first chance that Dumbledore gives me to come back to a place that he threw me out of? You want me to go back to taking orders from a man who couldn't have cared less about what happened to me after casting me away? Go back to all of those people who were ready to believe that I was a liar, a murderer, traitor? How can you, or anyone else, expect me to forget, and forgive that?"

He was on his feet and before Hemione realized what was happening, he had crossed the room. He towered over her, staring down at her, and held her by the shoulders. There was silence for a moment as they stood there, his eyes boring into hers, before his grip on her shoulders loosened and his enflamed eyes became passionless and pitiless. "Hermione," he said softly, "You are still such a child."

He turned away from her, as if making to leave. Hermione was silent, but her rapid anger was dissolving and, to her horror, she was feeling something else -- the last thing that she had expected to feel at his words -- guilt. And suddenly she was lost again, unknowing of what to do, her resolve shaking. She had promised herself that would never look back, but now, unwittingly she was, reliving those last days with an unanticipated horror.

Sirius paused at the door. Not facing her, he leaned against it. When he spoke, his voice had changed again, now holding a great sadness and gentleness that she could not remember having heard there before.

"Hermione, you will never be able to forget it. But yes, I would expect you to forgive it. There are worse things than being called a traitor and a murderer, and I would have thought that a girl with your integrity would have realized that your love for Harry, Ron, Dumbledore, for all of us who loved you, was greater and more important than your pride. If you can't see that, then I'm afraid that we really didn't lose what we thought we did when we lost you eight years ago."

He pushed the door open and began to step out. Hermione bit her lip, her guilt bubbling in her chest. Of course, she thought, he knows what it is like to be thought a traitor...to be accused of plotting against those who you love the most. Hermione looked down, ashamed, sticking her hands into her pockets as Sirius left, and realized that she still had his wand. She started.

"Sirius!" she shouted, running out into the hall after him. "Wait!"

He turned at the end of the deserted hall and looked back at her. He looked mildly surprised.

"Your...wand," she panted when she reached him, holding it up towards him. He gently took the wand from her hand. There was a pause in which Sirius looked at her curiously, but silently. Hermione studiously avoided his eyes.

"I...I want to apologize for what I said..." she finally said, haltingly. "I wasn't thinking..."

She glanced up at him quickly, and before looking away she saw a light smile starting on his mouth.

"Of course you weren't thinking," he responded easily. "We can't expect you to do that all the time, and goodness knows, you do your share." He raised her chin with his hand, so that she was forced to meet his eyes. "But now that I've planted the seed," he continued airily, "do try and think about it a little." His hand dropped and he gave her a calm, measuring look. "It's time to come home, Hermione."

And before she could open her mouth to respond, he had turned on his heel in the empty hall, and Disapparated.

* * *

Later that night, Hermione sat on her couch in a pretense of reading, but her mind was not on her book. She couldn't think about the author's words, but Sirius's words kept echoing around in her mind_..."It's time to come home, Hermione."_ Come to think of it, Dumbledore had said the same thing, but in her anger, she had refused to look back at the Wizarding world as a home, or even a place that she could temporarily return to. But if she was honest with herself, she knew that scarcely a day had passed in the past eight years when she had not thought about Harry...and all of her friends, scarcely a day when some part of her had not wished to return. Part of her wanted to just give in to their request, now that they finally wanted her back, too. But the other part (her pride, as Sirius had so succinctly pointed out) railed against the idea, loathed giving in, and wanted to hide away untouched...and safe.

First Dumbledore and then Sirius. Hermione despariningly admitted to herself that if they sent Harry next, she would not be able to turn a deaf ear to their pleas. Hermione felt her heart sink. _Oh, please don't let it be Harry next_, she thought despairingly.

When Hermione heard the key turn in the door she almost jumped of the couch with fright. Parker came in the next second carrying a bunch of grocery bags. Hermione guiltily got up to help her with them. She realized suddenly that she had been supposed to go to the grocery store this week, but other events had occupied her mind.

"You know I have been meaning to go to the store, I've just been very ...busy." Hermione said as she led the way to the kitchen. She looked back at the living room couch, and hoped that Parker didn't notice the book that was still lying there where she had been sitting.

"That's okay. I go to the store and you buy the stuff," Parker said briskly, unloading a bag of fruit.

Hermione relaxed slightly at her light mood, though grimaced to herself at the thought of the damage done to her credit, as they began unloading bag after bag of groceries. "You really are a character. So what's for dinner?" Hermione asked.

"How about …pizza?" Parker said from inside the fridge, putting milk away.

Hermione paused disbelievingly. "But you just got all these groceries," she said, gesturing around the full kitchen. "Aren't you supposed to eat the food when you buy it?"

Parker shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, yeah, but I have the food all planned out. Pork chops on Friday. Tacos on Saturday. Beef on..." Parker trailed off. "Did you have the air conditioning on or something, because it's really cold in here."

Hermione turned around and saw that the window in the living room was open. _Perfect_, she thought, _this will give me a chance to hide the book_. "I'll get it, it's just the window," she replied. She hurried over to close it but just as she reached it, a large barn owl swooped in and landed on the coffee table. Still talking about her meal plans, Parker walked into the living room after Hermione. When she saw the owl standing there on the table, hooting softly, she froze, and her eyes immediately shot to Hermione. She looked slightly frightened.

There was a long silence.

Finally, Parker moved, crossing the room while avoiding Hermione's eyes. "I think that's for me," she said in a soft, yet determinedly casual voice.

The world seemed to stop as Hermione turned to face her best friend's defiant stare. _What had she just said?_

"You? You'r...You're a witch?" asked Hermione.

Read and review. Thanks!


	3. Plots Within Plots

Author's note: Hello everyone. I know this is like four years late. Please don't hate me. The story has been reworked and I am now proud to post it. Now that the actual series is finished, I must make some notes.

This I guess is technically and alternate universe fic. It is cannon up to the fourth book, Goblet of Fire. That was when I started writing it. Thank you for the fans that hung in there. I am determined to finish this fic. Even though it has been almost a decade since I started it. So please read and enjoy.

Thank You!

-Sarah Quinn

Chapter 3: Plots Within Plots

"What is missing here, Wormtail?" A man, tall and lean, hissed in the dim light before dawn.

The quivering man in dark robes trembled violently before the other man. "I... The...It..." The man stammered.

The taller man crossed his arms, his index finger tapping away the seconds.

"I...It just so happens that although we have not succeeded, yet My Lord, we have a promising start-" said Wormtail.

"Promising start," whispered the Dark Lord. "Wormtail... I've been working on this for years. We shouldn't have a promising start. We should have a spectacular ending!"

Voldemort backhanded his servant. Wormtail fell to the ground, his face to the dirt. Voldemort drew out his wand and muttered a spell. Wormtail was pulled up by the spell, his feet dangling inches above the earth.

"What about our other issue?" The Dark Lord sneered as he drew Wormtail to his eyelevel.

"Prizmer and Norari reported back yesterday. They encountered Aurors led by Black. We captured one of them and injured many others," replied Wormtail.

"And?"

"He didn't give us much before he died. But it was something we feared. It...it has started. He suspects what we are doing. He made a visit to San Francisco last week-"

"Hmm. A rarity for him nowadays," interrupted Voldemort. "Continue."

"He went to see someone. It's curious. He went to see Hermione Granger-" Wormtail was cut off again.

"Now why would he be visiting her? That is most interesting." Voldemort mused while tapping his wand against his temple. "I want an eye kept on her. And I want to know why dear Albus wants her." Voldemort sneered, flicking his wand, instantly dropping his servant on his backside.

"I want better results from now on. You are not to work on anything else besides what you've been working on."

"Yes, sir," whimpered Wormtail. He had remained on the floor at his master's feet, where he had remained for most of his service.

Moments passed in silence.

"Wormtail," hissed the Dark Lord.

"Yes, my Lord?" Wormtail breathed out.

"You can't carry out my orders if you are playing in the mud," stated Voldemort with a half smirk, which was so familiar on his face.

* * *

Finally, Parker moved, crossing the room while avoiding Hermione's eyes. "I think that's for me," she said in a soft, yet determinedly casual voice.

The world seemed to stop as Hermione turned to face her best friend's defiant stare. _What had she just said?_

"You? You'r...You're a witch?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah." Parker was looking everywhere except at Hermione.

"Why didn't you tell me? We've been living together for six years and I never knew... you never said anything. I didn't know we were both... Well that you are a witch..." said Hermione sadly.

"I didn't tell you because I thought you were a Muggle. I haven't had much contact with my parents. The pretty much disowned me when I told them I wanted to be a caterer. Where you going to say you're a witch? Well you must be if you know... What happened, did you flunk out of school or something?" Parker asked jokingly.

Hermione sat down on the couch and Parker instantly regretted her words. "Oh dear. You did flunk out, didn't you? How stupid can I get? Letting my mouth run off like that. Hermione, I had only meant it as a joke. I didn't think..."

Hermione put up a hand to silence her. "I know you didn't mean it. And I didn't flunk out of school. I was actually at the top of my class..." Hermione became quiet.

"Then what happened?" breathed Parker.

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "My parents were killed. A week after they were murdered I was kidnapped by Voldemort."

Hermione pulled up the left arm of her shirt to reveal an ugly black mark. A skull with a snake in it's mouth. Parker sitting on the couch with Hermione, sank back into the cushions once she saw the blemish. "Voldemort forced this on my arm. You see, I was really... good friends with Harry Potter." Parker gave a gasp. "Voldemort hated Harry so he thought if he could get one of Harry's trusted friends on his side, it would weaken Harry. He couldn't get me on his side so he did the next best thing. He put the mark on my arm to make Harry think that I was on his side.

"After a little fight with one of my old school rivals, my robes were torn and my arm exposed-" Hermione's voice cracked. Parker put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I explained it to my friends and I think they understood. But there was another incident. Then there was a trial, and as my so-called punishment, my wand was snapped and I was banished from the Wizarding World." Hermione's face was hard. She had cried so many times over this that she didn't have the tears to cry anymore.

"I'm sorry, 'Mione." Parker moved over on the couch and enveloped Hermione in a big hug.

Just then the almost-forgotten owl hooted.

"I think we should get the letter and let the owl be on it's way," said Hermione.

Parker untied the letter from the owl's outstretched leg and saw with mild surprise that it wasn't addressed to her. She wordlessly handed it to Hermione then got up to get the owl some water.

Hermione opened the letter and read:

Dear Miss Hermione Granger,

The Ministry of Magic demands for you to come to the Ministry Office in England tomorrow at noon for lunch. Attendance is mandatory and a failure to come will result in a direct visit from a ministry official to escort you. Do not bother with owling back. Arrangements have already been made with the American Ministry for you to leave by Floo powder at eleven fifty. Enjoy your day.

Sincerest Greetings,

Ministry Secretary

Trisha Toid

Minister of Magic

Arthur Weasley

Hermione's heart began to beat faster. The day's events repeated in her head. Her eyes began to tear up and the air felt thin in the room. She stood and paced, hoping to pump more air into her lungs. A minute passed with no results. Panic started to rise in her.

Hermione needed to get out. She ran to the door, grabbing her keys and coat, yelling an excuse to Parker on her way out. Hermione ran down blocks of apartment buildings. Her feet leading her to a familiar spot in one of the nearby parks. Once there, she collapsed onto bench, panting from her sprint. Her body and mind felt heavy with the information of recent events.

What was happening? Why would Albus seek her out, especially with her status?

"Mind if I sit?"

Hermione recognized the voice. She didn't turn to the hauntings of her past.

Sirius sat when no answer came.

"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked, exhaustion lacing her voice.

"Albus thinks that because of the recent activity someone should stick around to make sure you are safe," replied Sirius. His tone was flat as if the decision was not what he would have agreed.

"Yes. That makes a lot of sense. Let's not let the traitor get injured." Hermione gave an astonished chuckle at her circumstances.

Silence enveloped the bench. A cool breeze shifted through the park. It gently removed a lock of hair from behind Hermione's ear. Her hand reached up, trying to secure it again. "What happens if I say no?" Her soft voice carried on that breeze.

"Then we will leave you alone," stated Sirius. "There is no guaranty though, that other... organizations will do the same. Albus has barely left the castle in the past five years. When he leaves, someone always finds out why."

"So you have condemned me." The statement weighed heavy on her chest.

"You became a target the day you became my godson's friend," said Sirius, shaking his head. His voice shared her burden. They both were targeted because of their best friends. "There is no end to that until Voldemort is dead."

"What happens if I say yes," asked Hermione's quivering, tear-filled voice. She turned to gaze into Sirius' eyes.

"You can help us end it."

Hermione looked down at her hands that rested in her lap. She mulled over his answer. "Why? Give me a reason why I should help any of you." Hermione's tears turned to anger. Sirius would not sway her that easily. It wasn't her world anymore. It wasn't her fight.

"A reason? To help your friends? Hold on. Give me a moment to think about it," Sirius replied, sarcasm dripping from his lips. "You are so blinded by anger that you would let your friends die? I guess you really did change, when he put that mark on you."

Hermione had been through this before. Many times but there was always a sting to it, no matter how much time passed.

"You know Sirius? I thought that maybe you would understand me." Her tears once again flowed freely down her cheeks. "Albus here asking me to come back, was surreal. I know that he is a very compassionate man but he could never know what it was like. Out of everyone, you know what it's like. And when you said what you did in the hospital took me aback because I would have never guess you to be so hostile to me. After everything you had gone through, how could you not at least listen. I thought you would stand for me. I was hoping you were on my side."

"The only side I'm on is the side of Good and Truth," replied Sirius almost gently.

Hermione snorted out a dry laugh. "You knew me Sirius! I would have died, like you would have, then betray one of my most trusted friends. I held out," Hermione cried out, placing her hand to her heart. "He tortured me to the brink and still I held. You say you are on the side of truth, well that is bullshit because if any of you wanted the truth, you could have dumped a vat of Veritaserum down my throat and gotten it. But no. No one wanted the truth. They wanted a witch... to burn."

Hermione jumped up from the bench, not caring that Sirius called to her. She was nearly out of the park when he appeared in front of her. Hermione walked up to him pounding on his chest trying to hit him as hard as she could between her sobs. He stood there taking her beatings, saying her name, trying to calm her. Finally, having no strength left for attack, her sobs took over.

Sirius enveloped her, letting her cry and scream into him.

* * *

Hermione woke the next morning with no memory of how she had gotten there. She was still in the same clothes as yesterday when she was talking with...

Sirius.

Hermione checked her clock. Quarter to ten. She climbed out of bed and entered the living room. There, sprawled on the couch, was Sirius Black, shirtless and snoring. Hermione rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"Sirius," whispered Hermione. She tiptoed closer to him, sitting on the end of the coffee table near his head. "Sirius."

"No Mama. Panda Bear still sleepy," mumbled Sirius still half asleep.

"Panda Bear?" Hermione sat, gawking. She began to gently shake his shoulder. "Sirius. Time to wake up."

Sirius groggily opened his eyes. It took a moment for him to focus on Hermione.

"Morning." Sirius sat up, stretching.

"Yes. It is. Did you sleep well... Panda Bear?" Hermione tried to stifle her smile but her efforts were useless.

"I was talking in my sleep, wasn't I? I would appreciate if you wouldn't mention that to anyone. My reputation as a tough auror is at stake," said Sirius, his demeanor a mock seriousness.

"I am requested at the Ministry today." Hermione blurted out. "I guess Mr. Weasley wants to put his two cents in."

Sirius remained silent, his face impassive.

Parker's door opened. The woman emerged, wearing a simple silky robe, singing to herself. Her eyes were closed and she danced in time with the song she sang. Parker's eyes opened as she twirled and focused on her roommate and guest. She stumbled slightly and cleared her throat, embarrassed. A surprised smile graced her face.

"Oh. Hi. Uh... I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm just going to get some coffee. You just continue what you were doing," Parker walked through the living room to the adjacent kitchen.

Hermione stood in protest at Parker's suggestion. She followed her roommate into the kitchen. Sirius joined them, fully clothed.

"Parker this is Sirius. He's an old," Hermione paused briefly. "Friend. He is Harry Potter's godfather. Um... I have to go to London today and talk with the Minister of Magic."

Parker faced her friend, concerned. "Do you want me to go with you? I'm in the mood for pissing off The Man." A wide, mischievous smile overwhelmed the concern on her face.

"Thank you but no," answered Hermione. "You have work. I'll be fine."

"Fine just ruin my fun," Parker said in mock vexation.

Hermione smiled at her friend before turning to Sirius and nodding for him to follow her. She strolled to her bedroom, closing the door once Sirius was in.

"I'd like you to stay here with Parker while I'm gone," started Hermione. She continued, staying his protest. "If what you said last night is true, then someone might come here looking for me. Parker is a witch but she doesn't practice it regularly. I don't want anything to happen to her."

"Albus wanted me to escort you." Sirius answered simply.

"Please, Sirius. Please protect my friend."

Sirius thought for a moment. Finally he nodded with reluctance.

"Thank you." Hermione smiled. "Oh and please Sirius, don't snog her!"

* * *

Hermione sat in her car in the parking lot of the American Ministry, quietly thinking to herself. She glanced at her watch. Eleven forty-five. She sighed, knowing she couldn't put it off any longer. Hermione took a deep breath before exiting her car and making her way up to the Ministry.

Once she passed through the glass double doors, Hermione found herself standing in a small lobby with black marble floors and golden candleholders. There was a woman standing behind a counter, with her auburn hair in a tight bun and her dark suit neatly pressed. Hermione walked through the semi crowded room, straight to the woman.

"May I help you with something?" asked the woman, looking down her nose at Hermione even though she was a good inch or two shorter.

"Yes. My name is Hermione Granger and I received a letter yesterday from the Minister of Magic. It said that I am to be here at eleven fifty to travel to England by Floo powder," explained Hermione.

"I see." The receptionist looked at Hermione doubtingly, as though her story could not possibly be true. The elegant lady pulled a large book from under the counter and slammed it down. A loud thud echoed through the lobby. She began to flip through the book's parchment pages. "Granger... Granger." Suddenly she frowned, and stared at Hermione hard as if she had seen her before but didn't know exactly where. Her eyes widened with sudden realization. "You're the Hermione Granger that was banished from the Wizarding World, aren't you?"

Hermione felt a blush rising in her cheeks and a stinging in her eyes. "No," she whispered. "I... You must be thinking about someone else... the Minister just wanted to see me. Please tell me where to go," she stammered.

The receptionist glared slightly at Hermione. "I see... yes, I see..." She looked down at her book again. "You are to go up the stairs and to the left. Room number one fifty-eight."

"Thank you." Hermione whispered, and turned away. But she could not help noticing the receptionist was doing something surreptitiously under the counter. _Probably calling security,_ Hermione thought bitterly, and made her way across the brilliantly lit foyer to the ornately decorated stairs. Carvings of fairies and nymphs danced and played together on the banisters, some watching in amusement as the people passed. Hermione smiled at them, and against her will she found herself reminiscing about the talking portraits that lined the walls of Hogwarts. Once up the stairs, Hermione made her way to the left, traversing through a passage into a large hallway. After strolling through the long hallway filled with many doors for a few minutes, she found door number one fifty-eight. Hermione knocked once, but after no one answered, she turned the doorknob.

Hermione now stood in a dimly lit room. The only light was coming from the fireplace where a spirited fire blazed in a variation of scarlets and oranges. The rest of the room was very bare. In the center was a tiny lamp table and a small wooden chair. On the table was a note. Hermione picked it up and read it:

Miss Granger,

Please wait here, Miss Granger. Someone will be by to assist you.

The note wasn't signed. Hermione carefully folded it, placed it back on the table, and sat in the small chair next to it. She couldn't help but feel that she had made a big mistake.

"I can't do this," she said out loud to herself. "Arthur Weasley is the Minister of Magic. The father of one of my former best friends. What if Ron is there? What is Harry is there?" This last thought seemed to hang before her. It was something she dreaded. _Then again, _she thought, _I'm not the one who did anything wrong. I shouldn't be ashamed to face them._ Hermione took a deep breath. "All right, I can do this," she said.

"Glad to hear it."

Hermione jumped out of her seat, surprised, to see that a man had entered the room. He was about mid-thirties and fit the description of tall, dark and handsome, perfectly.

"All right Miss Granger. Here is some Floo powder. You are to conduct your business in England as quickly as possible and come back. There will be no side trips. If we feel you were sidetracked, we reserve the right to give you a truth potion to discover your whereabouts. Understood?" He handed her the leather pouch of Floo powder.

"Oh, so _now_ you guys overdose with the Veritaserum. Never mind. I understand."

She moved slowly to the fireplace. She untied the leather pouch. Hermione quickly threw the powder into the roaring fire and put the pouch on the mantle. After a moment the flames sparked green. She stood within the flames and yelled, "Ministry of Magic in England." Soon, she was gliding away through the network of fireplaces, nervous about what was to come.

* * *

After about three or four minutes of sliding through the tunnels, Hermione was pitched out of the passage, landing flat on her back. A tall man stood over her. Hermione stared at him apprehensively, and though he no longer had the signature Weasley red hair, she recognized his kind face.

"Hello Hermione. I'm so glad you could make it. I hope we didn't cause any inconvenience," said Mr. Weasley in a cheery voice.

"Oh no sir. Not at all," answered Hermione sardonically.

"Well then. Let us retire to my office, shall we?" he responded, either missing the sarcasm in her voice or choosing to ignore it. Mr. Weasley began walking off. Hermione stood, brushing some soot off her shoulders and followed him, just beginning to take in her surroundings.

On the walls were portraits of the past Ministers. One dated back to the twelfth century, Hugo Langston. When they reached the end of the hall, Hermione saw a most unpleasant painting: Cornelius Fudge 1945-2007.

Hermione stopped in front of it. Memories of her final days and her trial flooded like a tidal wave into her mind.

"I have wanted to take that down ever since I became Minister," said Mr. Weasley, from behind her.

"What happened to him?" asked Hermione faintly, realizing once again how much she had missed in the time she's been gone from the Wizarding World.

"About five years after your trial, he was found to be a traitor. A couple of months later there was a riot in Diagon Alley. His body was found with the other people that died," mused the elderly man.

"Hm. Talk about poetic justice," responded Hermione bitterly, smirking at the thought.

"I know that you are probably wondering how you are able to be here," Arthur started.

"After Fudge died, many in the Ministry questioned his actions. Investigations went into all his rulings. I asked the Inquiries Department, personally, to look into your case, since he expedited your trial. Many in the department believe that Fudge thought accusing you would take the heat off of him. It took more than two years to get the department to take the case. They agreed last week. They are looking into your trial and the evidence against you. I have been able to lift the banishment. Unfortunately, it is an ongoing investigation. There may be another trial."

Hermione turned to face the Minister, not knowing how to respond. She nodded to him, hoping he would understand.

Arthur began walking again, as did Hermione, but only for another couple of steps. They stood before a set of large brass colored sliding doors.

"Is this... an elevator, sir?" Hermione asked, confused.

"It certainly is," he answered, proudly. "I had them installed shortly after I became Minister of Magic. Just wait until you see the electrical items I have in my office," Mr. Weasley continued excitedly. At this Hermione couldn't help but smile a little.

Mr. Weasley pushed the small brass colored up button. Hermione couldn't help but notice that the elevator looked exactly the same as the ones in the hospital. When the steel doors opened, Mr. Weasley motioned for Hermione to enter, and then followed her. Turning around, he pushed the topmost button that had four letters beside it: MOMO. Hermione immediately realized what they must have stood for: Minister of Magic's Office.

The ride in the elevator was short and silent except for the tiny ding of the elevator bell when they reached their floor of destination.

Hermione followed Mr. Weasley's gait easily, practically matching him stride for stride. She noticed that she must have grown quite a lot in the past years. They approached a desk that had a woman in professional black robes sitting behind it, her golden curls framing her face angelically.

"Catie. I'm not to be disturbed by anything until further notice," Mr. Weasley instructed her.

"Yes, Minister," she replied, without looking up from what she was writing.

Hermione and Mr. Weasley walked straight into his office. And a very large office it was. On the walls with the door they had entered was shelves upon shelves that had been lined with batteries. _I guess he still collects batteries_, thought Hermione with a grins. Another wall had also been occupied by a variation of Muggle contraptions. Coffee machines, clocks, calculators, and radios to name a few. A slightly destroyed vacuum cleaner lay across his mahogany desk, its cord laid out straight and neatly trailing on the floor. Hermione gently stepped over it, and moved to the far wall. It held an assortment of pictures of his family, all smiling and waving. Hermione walked over to it carefully, observing them. Her eyes stopped on one that was on a small bookshelf along with some other non-hanging ones.

She picked it up gently, her eyes frozen on the faces. In the picture was Harry, Ron and Hermione, laughing and smiling on a warm spring day.

"I remember that day," she said suddenly, her eyes unwavering from their spot. "It was late May. The sun was warm and so inviting. We decided that we would spend lunch outside. Get some fresh air. Clear our minds before exams started. We had so much fun. Laughing about everything and anything. It..." her voice cracked. She swallowed and started again, "It was the first time I had felt like my old self since my parents died." Tears were forming in her eyes now. She turned around and faced her past-friend's father. "Why did you keep this? Didn't you believe what everyone else did?"

"Unfortunately, I did believe it. And I don't know why I kept it. Maybe I was trying to hold on to the old you. I thought of you as a second daughter. And it killed me to think it was true. But something in me told me to keep it. To still have some part of the smart and sensitive girl that you once were, and still are I hope," said Arthur sadly.

"I'm not." Hermione put down the picture quickly and wiped the back of her hand against her eyes. "Well, I guess we should get on with this. What did you want to discuss with me?"

Mr. Weasley settled himself at his desk, and pulled at a thread sticking out of the vacuum. "As you probably already know by Albus visiting you, the Wizarding World is in danger again. In Harry and Ron's seventh year at Hogwart's..." Hermione's throat tightened. "Harry had a so-called 'last battle' with Voldemort. Our world rejoiced for years..." the Minister sighed.

"Let me guess. He's not dead and now you want me to help destroy him. I'm not the adventuring type. That was Harry and Ron's job. Why don't you get them to do it?" she said lazily, indication the picture with her hand while situating herself in a comfortable green chair near the man's desk.

The Minister sat up straighter in his chair and looked Hermione in the eyes. She uncomfortably turned her gaze away.

"I didn't know you had such a good understanding of the situation. The boys... they are working on this, but you know, they are only two thirds of a team. They have been for the past eight years. And they won't be able to so this unless you make it a full team again. You have an... important part to play in the plan. With your help we can progress further and we might be able to win this time. For good."

Hermione was quiet for a moment. "You want me to work with Harry and Ron? Do they know about this? That you asked me to come here and discuss this with you? And why would you need my help to progress further?"

Mr. Weasley's face bore a look of guilt. "No. They don't know about this. They don't even know you are here. They don't even know that Albus, Sirius, and I have been in contact with you. Albus wanted to be sure you had agreed before informing the boys. This..." he paused trying to find the right word. "operation, has been kept very quiet given your history. And as for why we can progress further only with you... We have a plan that is very dangerous and needs to be done with great care. It is... a spy mission. And seeing as how you are the only one available that has the Dark Mark, we find you the only one fit for this mission."

Hermione quickly stood, pushing the chair behind her into a pot that made a loud crashing noise. "Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. I'm not going to be a spy and pretend to be a traitor like I was accused of! I won't pretend to be an ally of that... that thing! I thought that working with Ron and Harry would be bad enough." Hermione's voice close to hysterical.

She took a breath to calm herself before continuing. "Voldemort killed my family. He tortured me for more than a week. He branded me and took my whole life. Not only do you want me to be in the same room with him, you want me to act like I want to be there. I think that is the craziest thing I have ever heard."

Mr. Weasley placed his hands flat on the desk and stared intently at Hermione. "I know this must be very hard for you. I can't start to comprehend what it has been like for you to be alone when you needed your friends the most. But I want to make up for that. I know that I, and the whole Wizarding World, do not deserve your help, but we would be in you debt," said the Minister.

Hermione looked down, staring at her hands, thinking about what she should do. Thinking about Ron and all of the good times they had had... He had been the last one to believe that she had done anything wrong. And Harry... she still remembered everything she had felt about him, and how she had thought she was going to die when he thought she had betrayed him... She finally had the chance she had wished for, for years, to redeem herself, if only she could prove it to them.

"If you help us, once Voldemort is gone, I can get you a public pardon," said Mr. Weasley, sympathetically.

Hermione looked at the older man. Anger rose in her. _He thinks a pardon can erase all the damage done to me. I have to risk my life and then if I'm still alive, I will see my pardon._ "I need to think about what you have asked of me." Hermione tried to keep her voice even.

"I understand. Let me escort you to the Floo powder hall," responded the Minister, rising from his seat.

"No. That's all right. I think I can find it myself," said Hermione, her tone still taut with anger. "Thank you, Minister."

"We have missed you. All of us have. I'll await your reply. But I want you to know that even if you do not wish to spy for us, you are of course welcome back, especially at the Burrow."

Hermione nodded and quickly left the room, trying not to slam the door on her way out. Her anger carried her to the elevator. She repeatedly pushed the call button hoping it would bring it to the level faster. When the elevator arrived, she didn't even wait for the doors to fully open. Hermione pushed the button that said: FPH (Floo Powder Hall).

Hermione was lost in her furious thoughts. She felt the elevator stop. She looked up and saw it was at level five. The doors opened and a man with untidy black hair stepped in, head down, not noticing her. After seeing that the ground floor button had already been pushed, he turned around to her, and said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone was..." His green eyes met hers and a look of surprise and recognition fell over his face.


	4. Dinner and Decisions

Disclaimer: I do not own any character except for Parker.

A/N: Here's Chapter 4 everyone. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for the review's. I hope you all like it. Chapter 5 is already in the works. Now that the holidays are over I have more time to work on it. Well everybody... Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Dinner and Decision

Hermione turned to face the doors. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harry standing there, staring fixedly at her profile. She refused to look at him.

The rest of the ride was agony. After a minute that seemed like an hour, Hermione saw him clench his jaw closed and turn to face the doors. _This is exactly what I didn't need_, thought Hermione. _ Great idea, having Harry not know about the plan..._

"One of us should say something," said Harry stiffly, still facing forward.

"You just did," answered Hermione, just as roughly.

"You know what I mean, Her... You know what I mean," retorted Harry. He turned to face her. He couldn't even manage to get her name past his lips.

_He probably forgot how to pronounce it._

Hermione turned her head, her eyes staring right into his. His emerald eyes used to be so expressive. Now they looked dull to her. Hermione's temper flared to life again from the overflow of past memories. "What do want me to say? Do you want me to pretend like this is normal? Okay. Hello, Harry. How have you been these past eight years? I'm sure you have been great here with your friends and career. Nothing to worry about, right?"

Harry was silent. The tiny ding of the bell rang before the elevator doors slid open.

"I'm sure Arthur, excuse me, _Minister_ Weasley didn't tell you yet, but my banishment was lifted. Something about me being falsely accused and Fudge trying to deflect attention from himself. Imagine. That." Tearing her eyes away from his, Hermione stepped out of the elevator. She turned abruptly and walked into the hall. She could feel his eyes on her back until she heard the elevator doors close again.

She paused and took a deep breath. Hermione turned and looked at the closed doors. For a second, she had a crazy impulse to run back and push the call button. But, no. Harry was gone. Again. Hermione began to walk. She didn't look back a second time.

* * *

After leaving the Ministry office in California, Hermione drove around for a couple of hours to clear her head. When she felt she had calmed down enough, she drove back to her apartment. Hermione found Parker and Sirius sitting on the floor, a board game on the coffee table between them. They were laughing, with tears in their eyes.

Despite the happy scene, a jealous sadness clouded her mind. Hermione couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like that. Head tossed back, not caring what sound, a snort or a wheeze or a squeal, that came out. A hearty laugh that started from the soul and bounced its way up on your organs and finally escaping through your throat. She could barely remember a time when she wasn't weighed down by the ghosts that brought her to exile. Once again, as she had many times in the past eight years, she wished Atlas would take the world back.

Sirius spotted Hermione first. The smile left his lips as his eyes turned serious. "How did the meeting go?"

"Fine," she answered shortly, hoping that her fake smile was convincing. She strode through the living room to her own, shutting the door. Hermione dropped her purse and coat on the floor before moving to the far side of her bed and perching on the edge, her posture perfect. She sat there, not sure what to do with herself.

The door creaked open then closed. Hermione frantically hoped it was Parker coming in.

"'Fine,' eh?" Sirius probed.

But life had taught her that hoping was useless. Nothing had come to fruition over her years of hoping. And yet she still did it.

"What exactly does 'fine' mean?" Sirius made his way around the bed to sit next to Hermione.

"It means that I understand the situation," she answered, not elaborating. She kept her features blank, still trying to grasp the unspeakable and dangerous mission she was being asked to take.

"Well that's... nice," started Sirius. "I understand the situation as well. We are in a war that has been going on for several decades. What I don't know is what you and Arthur talked about. You may think I'm in the know but I only find out the details when Albus or Arthur deem it so."

"They want me to be a spy," Hermione whispered. "They want me to become a Death Eater."

"It... could be worse..." Siruis trailed off, before suddenly perking up again. "He _could_ have been asking you to sell your first born."

Hermione's head snapped back towards him, giving Sirius a severe look. She jumped off the bed and started pacing. "It _can't _be worse, Sirius. Nothing can be worse than pretending to like Voldemort and his cause." She stopped her movements. "_They are asking me to become what they banished me for_."

"No, Hermione. They are asking you to use an opportunity Voldemort has inadvertently given us. You said he tried to turn you against Harry. He didn't succeed...at least not in the sense he intended. We have a chance to get close to him. A chance we didn't have before. I don't think Albus and Arthur would ask this of you unless it was a last resort."

"Yes. No pressure. Thank you, Sirius." Hermione sat back down on the bed.

Sirius took a deep breath and slowly let it out. He turned on the bed, catching her gaze and holding it. "I had a bit more than a decade to ponder... everything. You know, I still wake up sometimes, thinking that my life now is just a dream. That I may just be back in that cell in Azkaban." He choked out a dry laugh. "When I escaped, I was bent on revenge. I was accused of killing Peter, so I became determined to commit the crime I was tried for. Nothing else really mattered. But before I did it, I wanted to see Harry. To see with my own eyes how he had grown and that he was safe. When I saw him that first time, I was stunned at how much he looked like James. I remembered when Harry was a newborn, he had resembled his father. But it was like I was looking at a living ghost. Memories came flying into my head. Mostly good times, that had gotten me through rough ones. I knew then that I had another reason for revenge. Harry wouldn't be safe as long as Peter was alive. I knew we hadn't seen the end of Voldemort but I couldn't do anything to stop that. I _could_ stop Peter though. For James and Lily, for all those muggles he killed, for Harry and everything he would never have.

"My point to all this... It wasn't about me. It wasn't just about having my revenge anymore. It was about doing what I knew was right and getting justice. I could have left and never looked back. All I had was a godson, who I barely knew, who knew nothing about me. But then I would have proven everyone right. I would have betrayed my friends. I would have let the lies that surrounded their deaths stand. I would have failed as a godfather and broken a promise to always be truthful and protect him.

"It's not about you. It's about protecting those you love and care about, even if it is just one person. Don't do it for Albus or me or, hell, even Harry. You do it because it's right. I know for a fact you still have that in you. Or you wouldn't have gone to meet Arthur. And you wouldn't be listening to me right now if you didn't. That sense of morality is something you don't easily get rid of." Sirius leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. "I know I was harsh earlier. I do understand how you feel, probably better than anyone. It's just been so long since I've been there and I like forgetting."

Hermione gave an understanding smile, then leaned her head on his shoulder. She knew everything he said was true. She had spent years avoiding the truth but she couldn't avoid it now. A choice had to be made and every molecule in her being knew what the right one was. The pain of the past was the only thing holding her back.

"I saw Harry today," she whispered, trying to take her mind off the important decision.

"And how did that go?" Sirius asked with a thread of levity.

Hermione lifted her head up to match his gaze. She could see her sad and desolate eyes reflected in his. It was exactly how she felt when ever she thought of Harry. Hermione regretted bringing up the subject at all, and now another questions was burning in her mind..

"Why do you think Voldemort chose me? Why not Ron?"

Sirius was quiet for a moment, "I honestly don't know. Maybe he chose you because you were vulnerable after your parents died. That may have swayed him to you and not Ron. I do know his goal was to hurt and weaken Harry.I don't have a definite answer but I think it's a good thing that we don't know why a crazy man does the things he does."

Sirius' sympathetic smile was comforting. He laid a hand on her cheek and gently nudged her head back to his shoulder. They sat quiet as horns and voices blazed outside. Until that moment, Hermioned had not realized how much the mixed and vibrant sounds of the city calmed her.

* * *

A week later, Sirius had become a familiar part of Hermione's routine. Waking up and entering the living room, she usually found him shirtless on the couch...with the exception of the night after returning from the ministry. Hermione was rudely awoken that night by a kick to the head. She sat up and turned to see a big black, furry dog in the midst of sleep. His legs flailing and a low growl emitted from his snout. Hermione decided it would probably be best, for the rest of the night, to sleep on the couch.

Sirius followed her to work as well. He lurked behind partitions and Jerry the receptionist's bulk. By the third day, Hermione could barely contain her frustration. She pleaded with Sirius to stay at her apartment, or at the very least in the waiting room. Although she had to admit, it was rather hilarious to see Sirius "stealthing" around the hospital - checking around corners before entering a corridor and quickly moving to an open door fame to check that the corridor was still clear.

One bright morning, a week after her return, however, Sirius broke their morning routine by being dressed and alert when she entered the living room. He sat on the couch, a piece of folded parchment in his hand.

Sirius looked up when Hermione entered the room. He offered the folded parchment to her.

My Dear Hermione,

I have not heard from you yet. So I send this invitation. Saturday, the whole Weasley family is gathering for an early dinner. I wish for you to join us. After dinner, if you have any questions, we can discuss it. Even if you do not say yes to the job, say yes to dinner. I will not take no for an answer. Saturday at six o' clock. I can make arrangements for your travel.

-Arthur

"What is it?" Sirius asked, his brow knitted with concern.

"Arthur wants me to have dinner with the family. He's hoping to discuss my position more," said Hermione, with a cautious sigh. "I don't want to face Ron. At least not yet."

"Well, if you remember Molly's cooking, I think it'd be worth it!" Sirius chimed glibly.

"God, are you ever serious?" Hermione asked, staring him down.

"What are you talking about? I'm always Sirius!" Sirius said in mock protest.

"Ugh!" Hermione stormed off into the kitchen to get some coffee.

* * *

Saturday evening, Hermione walked along the lengthy path up to the front door, albeit a little haphazardly due to the portkey as her means of travel. She had only ever taken a portkey once before, in her fourth year of school, which she had promptly afterwards vowed never to use again. Standing on the step, taking a minute to gather herself, she slowly raised her hand to knock softly. _Oh dear. Please don't let Ron answer the door. Please not Ron._ Hermione got lucky for once; Arthur answered the door.

"Good! Hermione, you made it! I'm so glad. Well, don't just stand there! Come in. Come in," Arthur took her coat as she came in.

"Thank you," was all she said.

"Everyone is waiting outside." In the kitchen there was a loud crash of pots and pans. Arthur looked down at the floor with a humorous smile, "Except for Molly. I guess dinner isn't ready. Why don't you go outside and chat with everyone." Arthur literally pushed her to the kitchen but Hermione put her hands out to hold the door jam.

"Are you sure I should do that? Are you sure it's safe?" Hermione asked, turning to face him. Hermione gave him a scared, pleading look.

"You need to learn to tolerate people in the Wizarding world. They're not going to eat you, Hermione. Although they might try. I'm just kidding. Sort of," answered Arthur, a nervous chuckle rose from his throat.

"Hermione?" asked a female voice from behind her.

Hermione turned to face Molly Weasley. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley." She gave the older woman an unsure smile. The young doctor remembered back to her fourth year at Hogwarts, when that awful Rita Skeeter woman wrote an article about her, Harry and Victor Krum. Mrs. Weasley had read it and believed it. Her attitude towards Hermione wasn't pleasant for a while. Now Hermione didn't want to know what Mrs. Weasley would do to her.

Molly took her by surprise, walking up to Hermione, and enveloping her into a big huge. Hermione stiffened at first but started to relax after a moment or two.

"Please dear, call me Molly. Oh, child. Let me look at you," Molly held her at arms length. "Have you been eating? Look at you! You're as thin as a stick. Don't worry, dear, we'll fix that. Once you have had a bite of my food you won't be able to stop. You've been away too long." Molly started to busy herself with the food on the stove.

"All right. Let's go outside." Arthur led the way.

The cold air hit Hermione as soon as she stepped foot outside, causing a shiver to go down her spine. She wasn't sure that was the only reason. Hermione could see the people sitting at the table and memories flooded back to her. The last time she had eaten in the Weasleys' back yard was the summer before her fourth year. Everything had been perfect then. As they approached the table previous conversations ceased. The Weasley clan all focused their eyes on her.

"Here, Hermione, why don't you sit at the head of the table since you are our guest." Arthur stressed "guest" and looked at his children as he said it. He pulled out the chair for her.

Hermione muttered a simple "Thank you". She glanced around the table, noticing that a couple of Weasleys, Charlie and Percy, were not in attendance.

"I think I'll go see how Molly is coming along with our dinner." Arthur made his way up the path. _Oh dear Lord, take me now. This isn't good,_ thought Hermione.

There was a very long moment of very awkward silence.

Suddenly Ron shifted in his seat. "So I guess someone should talk. Might as we be me," he said, a sneer appearing on his lips. His eyes were cold and bitter. He was seated furthest away from her, to her right side. _I bet that was a strategic move on Arthur's part._

"Hermione? What have you been doing all these years? I'd _love_ to know how you survived in the Muggle world." His eyes were unfeeling and his voice full of fake excitement. All of the Weasley's looked down the table. Fred and George shook their heads slightly as if saying "Oh no. Don't start, Ron."

Hermione stared at him for a moment before responding. "I'm working as a doctor, Chief Resident to be exact, in San Francisco. And if your memory doesn't work as well as it used to, I'll remind you that I lived in the Muggle world before Hogwarts. I also lived there during the summer." Hermione allowed some animosity to be in her voice to show she wasn't threatened by his questions.

"My, what an accomplishment," replied Ron cooly.

"Ron. Stop it!" demanded Ginny, her voice was quiet, barely carrying down the table. She was seated closest to Hermione, on the left.

"Stay out of this, Ginny!" Ron snapped at his younger sister.

He turned his cold gaze to meet Hermione's eyes directly. "I think you should leave." He spoke softly but firmly, and then stood up, obviously trying to intimidate her.

"I'm not going anywhere, Ron. I have business here. With your father. I'm not going to leave just because you say so," Hermione retorted, surprising herself at how calmly she had said it.

"You have no business being here. You were banished because you were in league with You-Know-Who. Fudge banished you."

"Well you know what, Ron? Fudge is dead! Your father is the Minister of Magic now. And your father has the power to welcome me back, organize a parade and name an ice cream flavor after me, if he wanted to. So I suggest you shut up, sit down and deal with me being here because I'm not leaving until Voldemort is dead for good this time." Hermione's breathing was uneven. She didn't allow her voice to escalate during her speech. It was a voice she commonly used with difficult patients.

Arthur and Molly came down the walk with plates of food. "Dinner's ready." When Arthur saw his son and Hermione glaring at each other, his facial expression changed from gleeful to worried.

"Uh-oh."

Ron stalked off towards the house, slamming the door behind him.

"Dinner smells delicious Molly," Hermione said, a fake smile plastered on her face.

* * *

After nearly an hour of food and polite conversation, Hermione found herself in Arthur's study, sitting in a comfy chair in front of the lit fireplace. Arthur sat across from her in a similar chair with a glass half filled with an amber liquid. He offered some to her, but she politely declined.

"Have you given any thought to the offer?" Arthur asked before taking a sip of his drink.

"Well, I still don't really know what it entails," answered Hermione. Goosebumps popped up all over her arms despite the fire next to her.

"Well, you know we wish for you to become a spy. That does involve close proximity to Voldemort," Arthur said quickly. He paused, then continued, "I know that would be hard. If it were me, I don't think I would be up to the task. The second I saw him, I would aim and attempt to kill him." His gaze had turned to the fire. The dancing light made his stony expression change into different masks.

Hermione was silent for a moment. Then she started again. "What would be my cover? I think it would be suspicious if I just showed up for no reason."

"Albus and I are trying to work that out. I believe that now that your banishment has been lifted and your trail is in question, the Ministry would be more comfortable if you were around to keep an eye on. That is why you would stay at Hogwarts, under Albus's care."

Hermione swallowed her panic down. Hogwarts. Could she really go back?

"We may also have another position for you. The Charms teacher was seriously hurt earlier this month. It will be some time until she is up to her full strength. She will need someone to help in class and aid with assignments and such. It won't be anything to strenuous. We shall leave that to your other position," Arthur continued, now focused on her.

"Help teach? Are you feeling okay, Arthur?" Hermione studied his face to see if he was joking. He stared back, straight faced. "I can't teach. For one, I never graduated. I never got a teaching degree. Arthur, I haven't practiced magic in eight years. What if I don't have it anymore?"

"Of course you still have magic, Hermione. It is part of who you are. Just because you haven't used it in a while, doesn't mean it's not there anymore. As for not graduating and a teaching degree, that is just semantics. Being the Minister of Magic, I can remedy that," chuckled Arthur, apparently amused by her questions.

"You have better things to use you power on," Hermione pointed out, annoyed at how flippant Arthur was about how seemingly easy he could change her life.

"Better than repairing a mistake?" Arthur snapped, standing and beginning to pace. "Better than bringing down the most powerful enemy the Wizarding World has ever seen? Hermione, there are some things you must put aside your feelings for. This is one of those things!" He took a breath to steady himself. "This world is not how you left it. Back then, a lot more people had hope. We are tired now, Hermione. So tired of hoping him gone. If that were an effective weapon he would be finished by now. He has taken so much from so many. Voldemort needs only to take one more step and he shall shatter us. There are so few who know how truly dire this situation is. You are now among them."

Hermione studied him. Arthur slouched like his body ached with the weight he held on his shoulders. The firelight played with the lines on his face. One second he looked young, almost smiling. The next he was older, tired and worn. Sirius's voice popped into her head then. _It's not about you. It's about protecting those you love and care about, even if it is just one person. Don't do it for Albus or me or hell even Harry. You do it because it's right. _

It was the right thing. She couldn't let the past stop her anymore. She saved the lives of strangers on a regular basis. Why was it so hard for her to help save the lives of people she had once loved and cared for?

"Yes," she whispered, finally giving a answer.

Arthur's eyes searched her face quickly, his mouth a little "O" of surprise. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" He looked as if he hadn't expected such a quick acquiescence.

"You're really going to make me say it again?" Hermione questioned, her face blank. She could feel the corners of her mouth trying to form a smile but she stifled it on impulse.

Arthur pulled Hermione from the chair with a strength she didn't know he had. He wrapped his arms around her torso, encasing her arms in the hug.

"Arthur. Arthur!" exclaimed Hermione, starting to laugh. He released her from the hug but held her at arms length. She tried to make her voice serious again. "I do have a couple of conditions, though."

"Oh. Yes, of course. We knew you would probably expect compensation. We are -"

Hermione held her hand up to cut him off. "It's not really compensation. It's just... I have a roommate. She's a witch but she doesn't practice regularly. I just want to make sure she will be safe."

"I think we can manage to keep an eye on her. Yes, entirely possible," nodded Arthur fervently. "Anything else?"

Hermione paused, trying to word her next stipulation correctly. "I know how important this is to you, to everyone. But I don't want to spend the rest of my life trying to bring Voldemort down. What I mean is... I will commit to one year. I know that seems like such a short amount of time. After that I will assess the progress we have made. But I cannot guarantee I will stay after that point."

Arthur watched her intently, seeming to hang on her every word. He sighed when she finished. "I understand. I think we are lucky you are even willing to stay for that long. I must say this, though, and I shall be blunt: There is no guarantee Voldemort will not kill you. You may very well spend the rest of your life trying to bring him down."

Hermione swallowed. "I know," she answered, nodding quickly, trying to shake the thought out of her head. "But it's the right thing to do. If I don't even try, I dishonor the memories of everyone he killed. Of every life he destroyed."

Arthur moved his hands to cup her face. "We are going to get him this time." His voice soft yet held a strong thread of determination.

Hermione nodded, wanting to believe his optimism. She did have to admit though, she felt lighter the second she said yes. _Now how do I tell Parker?_

"Arthur? Do you think I could use the Floo to get home. I don't really want to risk a portkey trip on a full stomach," asked Hermione sheepishly.

"Of course," Arthur answered with a beaming smile, brighter than the roaring fire next to them.

* * *

Hermione walked into the apartment tossing her keys on the table near the door. The clock on the wall read twelve fifteen pm. She made her way to her room but was stopped by Parker's unexpected appearance.

"How'd it go?" Parker asked, coming out of the kitchen with a bag of pretzels in hand.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work today," responded Hermione, shrugging off her coat and tossing it on the back of the couch. She sat down and began untying her shoes.

"I called in sick. I wanted to be here when you got back," Parker flopped down on the couch next to Hermione. "So how'd it go?"

"Fine, I guess. Ron yelled at me. Everyone else was polite. The food was good. I had forgotten how great a cook Molly was." Hermione looked up at her roommate. Parker had her arms crossed and her lips were pursed. Hermione quickly realized her mistake and backtracked. "Her food is a very close second to yours."

Parker smiled and went back to eating her pretzels.

"Arthur and I talked after dinner... I said yes." Hermione waited for Parker's reaction.

Parker set her pretzels down on the coffee table. She slowly chewed for a moment and swallowed before responding. "Okay. So what... what does that mean?"

"It means," Hermione started slowly. "I will be gone for a year, maybe longer. It's going to be dangerous work. There is a possibility I may not come back."

Parker started to protest. Hermione silenced her with her hand. "Before you say anything, you need to hear me. I _have _to do this. I may not know them anymore and they probably still think I am a traitor but I don't care. I have to do this. For me and anyone who has been affected by Voldemort. Some one has to stop him before no one can."

"Fine," said Parker, gently. "But you have to promise... You will try to stay in one piece. You know, I really don't want to rent out your room. Do you know how hard it is to find a sane roommate in San Francisco?"

"I promise." Hermione chuckled as she scooted across the couch and hugged her friend. She released Parker after a moment, and looked around suspiciously. "It's kind of quiet in here. Where's Sirius?"

"The mailman knocked so he chased him down the street." Parker mused as she picked up the pretzels again.

"Ugh! I wish he would stop using his dog form!" Hermione leaned her head back, suddenly exhausted.

"He was human at the time. Except for the tail... and the barking..." Parker trailed off, trying to stifle a grin.

* * *

"You are absolutely sure you want to do this?" Parker inquired for the thousandth time.

It had been a week and Hermione now had her affairs in order to move to Hogwarts. Parker had been asking her all week that same question. She even woke Hermione up in the middle of the night, in hopes of getting a different answer.

"Yes. As sure as the ground I'm standing on," Hermione responded, stomping her foot to prove her point.

"You might not want to do that. You know, sinkholes happen!"

"Come here." Hermione reached for her friend, hugging her. She released Parker and gave a reassuring smile.

"Remember, one piece!" Parker demanded, holding up a finger to emphasize her point.

"I shall try." Hermione took one last look at her apartment building. Then her gaze fell to her friend. She made her memorize this moment in case it was her last with Parker.

"Hey!" Parker said. Her hands were now in her pockets and her face was serious. "If they give you a hard time, dish it right back at them. They were the ones that came to you and asked for your help. You're doing them a favor! So just remember everything you have achieved and everything you've done without their help. And if that doesn't work, you owl me and I will kick their butts! I may not practice magic that much but I do know some good spells that hurt like hell. Plus I used to play soccer so I know how to kick!"

Hermione choked out a laugh. But a pang of sadness crept into her heart. She would miss Parker's candidness.

"Thank you." Reluctantly she opened the door of the taxi and took her seat next to Sirius. The driver merged with traffic and sped off down the street.


	5. Golden Castle, Crumble and Fall

A/N: Here is Chapter 5. I hope you all enjoy it. Thanks!

"... in a single day and night of misfortune, the island of Atlantis disappeared into the depths of the sea." -Plato 360 B.C.

Chapter 5: Golden Castle, Crumble and Fall

As with her two previous visits to her home country, Hermione departed from the Ministry near her San Francisco home. She used the Floo network to travel to the Hogshead this time, with Sirius as her escort.

Hermione entered the castle through the large wooden double doors. Her hands had started to shake slightly upon seeing the old castle again, but being inside of it had brought on stronger tremors. Memories flooded back to her.

_Keep it together, Hermione_, she thought to herself. They_ need _you_. Not the other way around._

"What are you doing here?" a scratchy voice issued accusingly from behind them.

Hermione and Sirius stopped and turned to find Argus Filch looking disapprovingly at the both of them.

"Mr. Filch. It's good to see you again...?" Hermione replied, her voice unsure.

Argus just scowled, staring her straight in the eye. He wore the same shabby coat he had worn when she was in school. Hermione noticed more patches and creases in it than she remembered. He looked slightly older, his face worn and tired. His shoulder length hair was peppered with grey streaks. But the grimace and the accusing stare were the same.

"Well... we should continue, Hermione," Sirius intervened, he touched her arm and motioned with his head before continuing towards the Great Hall.

Hermione turned to follow Sirius. Why had seeing Filch of all people shaken her so much? He had always hated her, she thought wryly. She had only taken a few steps, though, when she felt a cold, bony hand enclosed itself around her upper arm. Breath caught in her throat, she whirled around to see Filch looming above her, panting heavily through his stained teeth. For a man who seemed so frail, his grip was shockingly strong, Hermione thought as she tried unsuccessfully to wriggle her arm from his grasp. "Mr. Filch!" she gasped.

His eyes blazed with severity. His pupils dilated as he stared at her. "Go back!" he whispered furiously.

"Oy! Argus!" Sirius had noticed Hermione's dawdling and turned back.

Flich immediately released his iron grip on her. Hermione was too surprised to respond. She had had no idea that even _Filch_ felt so strongly about her being here. Filch turned suddenly and began stalking away. Hermione glanced back over her shoulder at the old man limping away and talking to himself as she hurried to catch up with Sirius. "Stupid moron," he muttered as he trudged down the hall. "He couldn't keep out of it...all my problems..."

"Alright, Hermione? What did he want?"

Hermione had caught up to where Sirius was waiting for her. _That's one creepy part of Hogwarts I definitely never missed_, she thought to herself. "Yeah," she answered. "He was just...being Filch."

"Right. Well, let's get on then." Together, they pushed the doors of the Great Hall open.

She almost instantly looked up at the ceiling, in instinct. A habit she had formed while in school, to check what the weather would like that day. The darker recesses of the gothic ceiling were covered in a magical cloudy haze, reflecting the sky outside. Her eyes drifted downward, across the large thick-paned windows and the slants of hazy evening light draped like organza on the lengthy house tables. Hermione's eyes finally came to rest on the Gryffindor house table. The memories of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners with her friends flooded uncontrollably through her mind.

Hermione was shaken from her memories by a familiar voice. "Sirius. Hermione. You're here. I thought you were coming later this evening," said the elderly Professor Dumbledore, standing up to greet her.

He stood at a round table with all the other teachers. Hermione noted some familiar faces of the teachers that had taught her. She quickly searched the table for her old potions master but was disappointed. Hermione was surprised to see Neville there. Harry was there, too. His head was down, obviously trying to avoid her gaze.

"I decided to come early. No use in delaying the inevitable," she replied with a small smile. Sirius cleared his throat, stifling a smile.

"Well, I'm glad you are here. Come and sit. We were just starting dinner. Sirius, will you be joining us?" Dumbledore asked.

"Thank you, Albus, but no. I've got some paperwork I have to get through," Sirius answered politely.

Hermione saw Harry raise his head, staring at his godfather. He gave Sirius a pointed look. Hermione knew Harry did not want to be anywhere near her. She guessed that Harry wanted Sirius to be a buffer between them. She silently agreed with this sentiment.

"You're going to leave me here?" Hermione muttered under her breath so only Sirius could hear her. "You could have at least made a better excuse. Paperwork? Really?"

Sirius didn't turn to face her, but muttered back in a similarly muted voice. "You are going to be fine. Just breathe and remember, ducks may look harmless but can be very dangerous."

Hermione blinked hard, then shot him a look out of the corner of her eye. She could see the his lips turned up in the beginnings of his trademark smirk. "Yes. That makes perfect sense, Panda Bear."

Now a full smile cracked on his lips, and he turned and gave her a hug. "I'm not worried about you at all with that quick wit of yours." Sirius turned to go, then paused, and leaned in to her ear. "If Harry becomes a prick, which he is prone to be from time to time, just mention Melbourne. I'll explain later."

Sirius straightened, swept his hand grandly before himself to the collected professors, as if about to bow, then gave a jaunty and sarcastic salute to the headmaster. Without another word, he turned on his heel, and left.

Hermione released the breath she had been holding slowly before turning her attention to the many sets of eyes now resting on her. She noticed as she approached the table that an empty chair had been conjured for her. An empty chair between Dumbledore and Harry. _Of course. I _have_ to sit next to Harry_, she thought. _You _know_ Dumbledore did that intentionally_. As she rambled on in her head, she made her way around the large table and seated herself.

Food appeared before them, and the professors turned their attention to it with an intensity that Hermione could only imagine was inspired by her early, awkward arrival.

Finally Neville cleared his throat and broke the silence.

"So... Hermione, what have you been doing these last few years?" Neville asked politely.

"Oh, I've been working as a doctor at St. Joseph's in San Francisco, in the United States," Hermione said before taking a small bite of her sandwich.

"San Francisco? Really? Did you run into Sirius there?" Professor McGonagall replied, her words tight and restrained, just as Hermione remembered.

"Yes. He was hurt while fighting some Death Eaters and I treated him about a month ago. Right after Professor Dumbledore's great, timely visit," said Hermione sarcastically, but with a smile. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry lean back into his chair. She heard it draw across the marble floor. He sighed and then stood.

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going to go lie down." Harry walked out of the Great Hall. Nearly everyone in the room watched him go before they turned an uneasy gaze onto her.

Hermione gave a sigh before a brief, tense silence came.

"Maybe I should get Madam Pomfrey to go check on him," suggested Dumbledore. But as he started to get up Hermione put her hand on his forearm.

"He's fine," Hermione spoke. "He wanted to get away from me. Sitting me next to Harry might not have been the best move. Don't worry, Professor. It's not the first time and it won't be the last. You know, if you don't mind, I'd like to get settled in." Her voice bounced with fake enthusiasm.

Dumbledore patted her hand that was resting on his arm, and sighed in resignation. "Of course. Follow me."

Led by her old Headmaster, Hermione walked out of the Great Hall and to the staircase. _Another thing I don't miss about Hogwarts_, she thought, _all these stairs_._ I don't know where Dumbledore finds the strength._

After climbing a second set of stairs, Dumbledore led Hermione down a straight hallway until stopping, rather suddenly, in front of a picture. It was a still painting of a hand that seemed to be made of light. Held in its palm was a large bubble. In the bubble, a small city of gold stood on a narrow island, never hidden by shadows. A large golden castle rested in the middle of the sandy island. Every tower appeared delicate and fragile, but they stood tall and strong, as if trying to defy their delicate nature. All the small people moved, or rather floated with grace, they seemed to make the clouds above them envy the peace. Such a place was not justified by the simple name of "city". It was more like an empire of utopia. Harmony all around- in the hearts and minds of the children and adults. Never wavering. Never doubting. Just perfect.

"Breathtaking, isn't it? It was painted by Vladimistri Marplas. He was my great-great-grandfather. This is how he imagined Atlantis. Many stories that Muggles believe to be only legend really do exist here in the Wizarding World. But Atlantis is as much a myth to us as it is to them," explained the old man.

Hermione felt a clenching fist of pain in her heart. The painting was what her life was like just eight years ago. Atlantis was thought to have been destroyed by a large wave. It was destined to live from then on as a watery realm of wonder. In her mind she could see the wave falling upon the glorious splendor of the fortress. The turrets crashing to earth and smashing. Statues of great leaders of their world pulled by gravity to the stained soil. She had been wrong about her friendships being as strong as the castle. She had been wrong about her so-called friends. She had been wrong about a lot of things. How could things have gotten so bad so fast? _Why did the golden castle break down and crumble?_ thought Hermione.

_Stop it. Don't think about the past,_ she chided herself. _You're stronger than this, Hermione. Focus on the future. _Your_ future_.

"Well, let's go in, shall we? The password is 'Peanut Butter'," said Dumbledore. The painting seemed to shimmer for a moment. An average-sized wood door, with a black metal handle appeared to the left of the painting.

Hermione trailed behind Dumbledore as he pushed the sturdy door aside. The room they entered was warm and cozy. Gold was laced around the room, highlighting a multitude of darker blue hues. To her left, resting on the same wall as the painting, was a grand fireplace with a couch and chairs around it. The furniture was overstuffed and accented in mahogany. It looked to Hermione as if she could sink into it and get sucked in. The walls were adorned with a beautiful mixture of tapestries and paintings that gave the room an even homier feel.

A large beautiful mahogany floor-to-ceiling bookcase stood to her right. As she followed the headmaster further into the room she saw it took a right turn, creating an L-shape. Hermione noticed the bookcase didn't connect to the wall. She drew closer, as most bookcases tended to draw her in, and she found the bookcase created a little den. One smaller round table occupied much of the space but left enough room for a cushy love-seat.

"Your room is over here." The professor walked right and Hermione turned to follow.

And gasped upon entering.

This room was more reminiscent of the painting of Atlantis. Gold also trimmed this whole room but it seemed to meld in with its surroundings. The frame of the four-poster bed, made from a lighter colored wood, shone in the light of the midday sun. A large fluffy Caribbean blue comforter lay on top of the mattress with gold pillows that lay gently at the head of the bed. A modest desk of the same light-colored wood sat in the corner near the double doors of the balcony.

Hermione's eyes widened as her gaze fell to the floor. The floor was water. Well, at least it looked like water. Hermione lifted her foot up and set it down gently. Where her foot fell, a small ripple started, the rings getting bigger as they got farther from her. It had been so long since she had seen magic at work.

Hermione looked to the ceiling expectantly. She imagined it would resemble the ceiling of the Great Hall but she was disappointed. It was a regular ceiling. Many windows encompassed the room letting in a lot of natural light. Any and all wall space that wasn't a window was occupied by a painting or ornament of a sea creature. Even the fireplace was carved with mermaids, fish and water nymphs.

Hermione had to lean against her bed post. All of this was starting to overwhelm her.

Professor Dumbledore sensed this.

"The bathroom is this door on the left. Next to it is the closet. And as you see your things are already here. Get some rest, Miss Granger. You have a lot of work ahead of you," said the Professor as he turned to go.

"_Doctor_ Granger."

The headmaster paused with his hand on the doorknob. "I'm sorry?"

"I worked hard for that title. I would prefer to be formally referred to as Dr. Granger by staff and students." Her voice was hard.

Dumbledore nodded, a sad note in his eyes.

"It was eight years wasted because many of us couldn't see the truth. I am sorry I didn't believe you. It is one of the many things I regret. And I'm sure with time, Harry and Ron will realize that you never did any of those things. Just give them time." He spoke slowly. Hermione looked at the headmaster with a steady gaze.

"It may have been eight years, but it wasn't a waste. I managed to make a rather good life for myself. It doesn't matter if they trust me again. I don't need their trust or approval. Not as long as we can achieve our goal. I don't know if Arthur told you, but I'm not willing to invest the rest of my life in this. I know one year seems like a short amount of time to get rid of Voldemort. If I'm alive by the end of one year, I'm going back to my life." Her voice was calm. "They had eight years. I think that is enough time."

Dumbledore looked at her sadly again, then slowly nodded. "I see. Get some rest. If there is anything you need, please tell me."

Dumbledore left, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

* * *

Harry walked as fast as he could out of the hall without running. The pit feeling in his stomach grew stronger every time he thought of her. He made his way down the corridors to his quarters. Once there, he flopped down on his bed, deciding to sort out his thoughts about Hermione.

He almost hadn't recognized her when he had seen her in the elevator. Granted, he hadn't been looking for her. It was unexpected, but some part of him was glad to know that she was at least alive. He noticed that she carried herself differently. Well, it had been eight years.

Eight years since he had last seen her or spoken to her. But he would be lying if he said it had been that long since he had last thought of her. He tried not to, yet sometimes she just crept into his mind. It seemed to lessen over time but every now and then, when he least expected it, something would remind him of her.

Harry fell asleep while thinking about Hermione.

_Harry was in the hospital wing recuperating from his 'final battle' with Voldemort. He stared blankly at the ceiling, too tired to do anything else. It had been a week and four days since he was admitted to the infirmary, and only the last three days had he been awake for._

_The young man thought about all the family and friends he had lost to Voldemort: his father, his mother, Cedric Diggory, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevely and Cho Chang. He was still grieving the gruesome murder of his girlfriend, Cho. It was all he had been able to think about since her death two months ago...her body left out on the grounds of the Quidditch pitch...a bow in her hair and a note in her hand like she was a present from Voldemort. Harry shook himself to get rid of the images._

_But now another loss slipped into his head. Someone who wasn't dead but Voldemort had taken nonetheless._

_Hermione wasn't dead in the literal sense. But the Hermione he knew was. She had been banished from the wizarding world in their sixth year. Some part of Harry wished Hermione was dead instead of what she really was: a traitor. Branded with that title, Cornelius Fudge had snapped her wand and told her never to return._

_Harry remembered the past years and adventures with Hermione and Ron. It had always been the three of them. They were inseparable. _Or so we thought_, Harry thought sadly._

The dream shifted into another memory.

_"It's a shame he didn't kill you off when he had the chance. I bet it was easy for him to kill your parents, though. They were only weak Muggles," said Pansy Parkinson. She had been trying to pick a fight with Hermione all week, ever since she had gotten out of the hospital wing._

_Hermione finally took the bait of the pug-faced girl._

_"That's it, Pansy! You want a fight, then we'll fight," said Hermione, angered by the other girl's words._

_"Hermione, come on. Let's just go," pleaded Harry._ You've been through enough already_, thought Harry._

_"No. She wants a fight and she'll get a fight." Hermione didn't take her eyes off Pansy. Hatred smoldered in her usually kind eyes. Harry had never seen her like this. It scared him._

_Harry watched in shock as Hermione walked up to Pansy and, instead of drawing her wand, punched the other girl square in the nose. Pansy stumbled back a few steps. She put her hand up to her nose and pulled it back to find blood on it._

_"You bitch!" Pansy screamed as she charged at Hermione._

_A small group of people gathered around the two girls on the ground. It grew by the minute. But before anyone else could join the audience, an adult voice was heard by everyone in the corridor._

_"What's going on here?" asked Professor Snape. He pushed through the crowd of students on the opposite side Harry and Ron were on._ Oh no_, thought Harry._

_Harry saw Snape survey what all the students were looking at, and his eyes fell on the two girls, still fighting. He approached them and pulled a hell-bent Hermione off of the beaten up and bruised Pansy. Hermione fought Snape until he grabbed her roughly by her shoulders. He released her after she stopped struggling, realizing it was a teacher. Pansy just lay on the ground taking shallow breaths. Blood was coming from her nose and lip and the many little nail scratches on her face._

_Hermione, too, had scratches on her face, but not as many as Pansy. Her lower lip was bleeding and a pale blue purple bruise was forming around her left eye. Hermione's robes were torn more than Pansy's, though. They were torn on the bottom, four or five inches above the hem, and on her left arm the material was split up to her elbow...revealing a horrible black brand._

_Harry felt his mouth open slightly in shock. His stomach fell. He thought he was going to be sick._

_Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron become tense. Ron had seen the mark too. Harry had hoped it was a trick of the light or maybe his mind was playing games on him. But if Ron had seen it, too, then he knew it wasn't his mind or the light._

_"Miss Parkinson, get to the infirmary at once," snapped Snape. Harry looked at Pansy as she walked away. For a girl who had been badly beaten, she looked pretty pleased with herself. She had a triumphant smirk on her face as if she had known the Mark would be there._

_Harry turned back to Snape and Hermione just in time to see Snape look down at Hermione's arm and then grab it, trying to cover the mark._

_"Come with me, Miss Granger." He led her off down the hall._

_Harry stood stalk still as all the people left, murmuring about what they had seen. Ron stood with him._

_"How? Why? Harry? Please tell me you didn't see that. Please tell me I didn't see that. It was an illusion. It wasn't what it looked like. It wasn't the Dark Mark," Ron's voice quivered as he spoke._

_Harry knew how much Ron wanted the words to be true. For it not to be the mark. For it to be a dream. But it wasn't a dream. It was the disgusting black mark, a symbol of the monster who had taken so much from Harry since the day his parents were murdered in front of him. Now he had claimed someone else he cared for and loved._

_"I saw it... It. It was real," Harry said, his hands balling into fists at his side. He tried to keep the anger and sadness out of his voice._ How could this be possible? How long had she...?

_Harry suddenly felt his stomach jump into his throat. Harry ran as fast as he could down the corridor to the bathroom._

Again the dream shifted to another memory.

_Harry sat on a couch in front of the fire in the empty common room. All the students were down in the Great Hall for lunch. He couldn't bring himself to eat after what he had seen today. Just thinking of it again made his stomach churn._

_Harry didn't bother to look as the portrait hole opened. Whoever it was plodded over to him. He finally looked up into the face of his best friend, Hermione. His eyes shifted down to her left arm in morbid curiosity but he found her robe had been repaired._

_"Harry," Hermione started tentatively._

_He didn't answer her._

_"Harry, please..." Her already thin voice trailed off._

_"You wouldn't say anything about what happened to you. You wouldn't tell me or Ron or Dumbledore. We agreed to give you time to sort everything out. I think today, your time ran out." Harry tried desperately to keep his voice calm._

_Hermione slid to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "He-He tor-tortured me. I'm not going to tell you everything because I don't want to remember any of it. But he put so many potions down my throat I barely remember being conscious for the last couple of days. When I woke up and was clear-headed enough, I saw it. I thought it was a joke or I was still dreaming._

_"I didn't join him Harry! I would never do that after what he did to my parents and yours. And if you believe that I would do something like that..." Her sobs took over. She knelt on the ground crying into her hands._

_Harry slid off the couch and pulled her to him. His arms encircling her as he whispered assurances._

_He leaned into the hug, taking in the smell of her hair and the intensity of her embrace. It was the same smell of Hermione and the usual way she hugged. She clung to him as if he was all she had. It was true. She had no parents only friends to help her. She wouldn't throw all her relationships in danger by joining Voldemort._ She must have done it to escape_, he thought._ It must have been the only way she saw to save herself_. And for now he believed it was true. She was his friend and he would do anything to help her as she would do for him._

_He turned his mind off as she cried in his was the same Hermione he knew. But he couldn't get rid of the creeping thoughts growing in his head._

Harry woke with a start. A murky darkness hovered high in the sky. Harry could see an orange horizon through the numerous windows. He slid to the edge of his bed, resting his head in his hands. Inhaling, he stood and ambled to his bathroom. He splashed cool water on his face and took a moment to stare at his reflection.

It had been so many years ago, and yet, in the two times he recently saw her, Harry felt the same dread as when he had first seen the Dark Mark on her arm.

"I need to get out of here. I need to just get out of here," said Harry, still starting at his reflection. An idea flooded into his head.

After drying his face off with a beige towel from the towel rack, Harry headed for the fireplace in his large bedroom. Igniting it quickly with his wand, he threw in a small amount of Floo powder from the Floo powder stand next to the fireplace.

Stepping into the fire, he calmly said, "Sita Garden Quidditch Pitch."

When Harry reached his destination, he dusted himself off and walked through the warm well-lit lobby. Harry exited through the back of the lobby through a glass door, ignoring the bright smiles of the younger female employees of the stadium. A frown drew on his face as he made his way down a short cobblestone walkway.

At the end of the walkway was the Quidditch pitch, brightly lit in the ever darkening night. As Harry approached, he saw the players in the air, casting long shadows throughout the stadium. Memories of flying while he was still in school came back to him...the way the wind tousled his already unkempt hair and the feeling in his stomach when his feet left the ground... Harry filed his memories of his younger days into the back of his mind.

He knew it was a practice because it was Thursday and most games were played on Saturdays. Even if he didn't know the day, the coach's constant yelling and the lack of fans seated in the stadium was a dead giveaway.

"Darcy! You're _too damn slow_! How do you expect to score any points when you're slower than a freakin' snail? Stop laughing Speedy! You sure as hell are NOT living up to your name. Caraway! Wake up! This isn't Snoozeball. But I'm sure if that was an actual sport you would be a prime pick. This is Quidditch. Go to bed earlier if you don't want to be kicked off the team. That goes for all of you." The coach stood in the middle of the field, scrutinizing all the moves of his players.

Harry strode over to the angry coach and crossed his arms over his chest while looking up.

"How are they doing, Ron?" Harry asked.

"How do you think they're doing? Oh, they're doing _great_. Look at them, Harry. Last night one of the guys had a birthday party. Guess what happened... They all got drunk. Now they have hangovers. They're worse than Crabbe and Goyle," said Ron, his voice as exasperated as he looked. "Bonus is, I don't have to go to therapy today. I'm getting rid of all my rage out here."

Harry laughed a little bit. "Yes. You certainly sound like you're getting rid of it."

Harry heard someone yelling 'I got it! I got it!' from above them. It was the seeker, Niko Prolim. He was racing down the pitch, trying to catch a small snitch which was only a glint to Harry. Prolim was almost there but at the last second the snitch flew away. Before he was able to turn around, he hit the rightmost pole of the three goal posts. As he fell down to the ground, his teammates flew down to help him.

Ron just threw his hands above his head in frustration before jogging over to his players. Harry trotted alongside Ron to see if Prolim was alright.

"Is he dead?" Caraway asked worriedly.

"Not if I have anything to do with it. We have a game in two days and if he's dead we're all screwed," said Ron with mixed anger and concern as he approached the huddled men.

Harry watched as Ron knelt down beside Prolim and shook his shoulders slightly. There was no response. Ron shook him again, a little harder. Still no response. Ron then raised his hand and smacked Prolim hard across the face. Prolim sat up with a start.

"How many fingers am I holding up?" asked Ron.

"Six, sir," answered Prolim as his upper body fell back to the earth. Ron was only holding up two fingers.

"Hm. Right. Harry? Will you help me get him up? We need to get him to the medic. Uh... Practice is over guys. Hit the showers," Ron said.

Harry walked over and pulled Prolim up. He put the seeker's left arm over his shoulder.

"So, Harry? Why are you here?" Ron asked as they walked toward the lobby from where Harry had come.

"What? I can't come and see my best friend once in a while? I just wanted to see how you were," explained Harry.

"Not that I'm not grateful to see you, it's just, you usually owl and ask to go to brunch or lunch or something like that. You don't _ever_ show up unannounced." Ron's voice was a little strained from a mixture of the weight of Prolim and the yelling.

"I wanted to talk to you. I've had a lot on my mind lately," said Harry as they entered the lobby through the glass door. The clinic was just inside the door. The nurses thanked them for bringing him and told them to wait outside.

"What's been on you mind?" asked Ron as they sat down in the chair right outside the clinic. "Or, knowing you, I'll probably have to guess," he said with good-natured sarcasm. "You've got on your stoic-yet-tormented-and-bereft face. That is not to be mixed up with the stoic-yet-tormented-and-livid face, because that is reserved for You-Know-Who himself. Nor the stoic-yet-tormented-and-impassive face that you use most every day. And since I know about the grand event that today shall mark in history as the biggest mistake Arthur and Albus have ever brought upon the Wizarding world, I know you are thinking about Hermione. But even if I didn't know she was arriving at Hogwarts today, I'd know you were thinking about her. Because this is the look you get every year on her birthday and the day that marks her banishment." Ron sat back with a proudly satisfied smirk.

Harry could feel himself gaping at Ron. "You put waaay too much thought into that." Was he that transparent or did Ron just sit around, studying him?

Harry quicky collected himself. "I couldn't sit next to her for five minutes." He paused for a moment. "Do you think she just woke up one morning and decided to be evil and destroy us?"

Ron looked down at his hands in his lap. "I don't know, Harry. I really don't know the workings of Hermione's mind. I thought I used to understand but I don't. She probably got sick of always being the good little girl. But what I do know is there is no way I'm going to work with her. No matter how hard Dumbledore tries to make me."

Harry just nodded and stared out the glass door. Harry remembered the painting that was the doorway to his common room. It was just like his life. _Why did the golden castle break down and crumble?_

"You might still have a chance to run. Knowing me tends to hurt people," Harry said, his toxic and depressing thoughts motivating his words.

"Yeah... But then I'd have to find a new friend, who isn't a Death Eater or has an arch-enemy that is hellbent on destroying the world. Frankly nowadays, it's kind of hard to tell who people really are." Ron's face held a sheepish smile. It made him look like the eleven year old boy Harry had met on the train. "Hey, Harry..."

"Yes, Ron..."

"When was the last time you were on a broom?"

"Ha... Not going to happen."

* * *

Ron walked tiredly up the path to his cute two-story cottage. Once inside he shrugged off his cloak and hung it in the entryway closet. He ambled through an archway in the foyer to the kitchen. Ron headed straight for the icebox and a cold beer. He heard a loud crash from upstairs as he was about to take a swig.

Ron set his drink down. He grabbed his wand from his pocket and slowly trekked the stairs, his eyes roving for the intruder. When he reached the landing, he proceeded down the righthand hallway, his wand in front of him. He came upon the master bedroom. The door was wide open. That wasn't unusual since it was almost always open, he thought. Ron heard the faucet in the master bathroom turn on. He continued to the bathroom and quickly turned in the doorway trying to catch the intruder by surprise.

"Jeez!" Ron said in shock, as he turned the corner, almost dropping his wand. "Susan! I thought you went to your mother's house..."

His wife stood at the sink, staring at her reflection. She seemed unaffected by her husband's presence.

Ron surveyed the room, wondering what had made the crash he heard. What he found was a small wooden cabinet they used to hold extra towels and other lavatory necessities. The cabinet was split and broken glass was strewn on the stone floor. He stepped into the room and turned his attention to Susan, scanning his eyes over her to see if she was injured.

"Are you okay?" Ron asked, placing a hand at the small of her back.

Susan flinched and shrugged away from his touch. "No."

Ron exhaled and aimed his wand at the cabinet, muttering a quick _reparo_, fixing it. The glass popped into the front of the cabinet smoothly as if it had never been broken.

"What happened?" he asked gently.

"Nothing," Susan answered, her voice flat.

"Susan..." Ron's soft voice trailed off.

"Nothing happened!" Susan spun around and yelled. "I just pushed it over. It was in my way so I smashed it!" Tears started running down her face.

Ron moved forward, encircling his wife in his arms as she cried into his chest.

"It's okay. It's okay," he muttered into her hair.

"It's...not o-okay," she said between breaths. "We... we were so close. Well...closer than last time. I just don't understand! I- I can't... I can't go through this again. I just want a child of our own. I should be able to do it. I should be able to have a baby. We both want this but it won't happen."

"It's going to happen," answered Ron untangling himself from her only to gently cup her face in his hands. "It may take more time and more pain but it will happen. We are going to have a baby of our own."

"It's so important to both of us," started Susan. "If I can't have children- I don't want to lose you."

"That will never happen!" Ron's voice was forceful but held many tender notes. "You have me for as long as you can stand me. And even then you won't get rid of me. I love you. Our ability to have kids won't change that. Ever."

Ron released her face. He draped his arm around her shoulders, giving her a light squeeze. He guided her out of the bathroom with a small sympathetic smile trying to change his saddened eyes.


	6. Let Me Save You

Chapter 6: Let Me Save You

"Oh this isn't good. The girl has returned. This really isn't good." A short man, middle-aged and balding, paced back and forth, repeating the words.

"Would you stop that, Wormtail! You'll put a hole in my rug, and mind you, that was a very expensive rug." A tall, thin man appeared from the shadows of the dimly lit room. The small fire was not nearly enough light to reveal his face. But there was no need because Wormtail knew exactly who he was.

"Master! I did not know you were here. Weren't you supposed to come tomorrow?" Wormtail spoke quietly, his voice quivering.

"Do not question my doings!" Voldemort's voice was loud and firm. His scarlet eyes glowed unnaturally as he hit Wormtail over the head. The sniveling being fell to the ground and tried to get back up. Voldemort lifted his foot and stepped on Wormtail's back to keep him down on the ground.

"My Lord?" questioned Wormtail.

"This is perfect," Voldemort took his foot off of Wormtail's back and stepped over him, moving towards the fireplace where two overstuffed chairs sat, "Come, Wormtail. I have a plan that will not fail."

Once the men were seated the apprehensive Wormtail spoke, "What is your plan, My Lord?"

Voldemort stared at the fire for a long period of time before answering. His voice was soft and cold and his words were slow with patience as if he had all the time in the world.

"Hermione Granger is back in the wizarding world. Of that, I'm sure you know. That old fool is going to use her to spy on us. He thinks he is better than me. Such arrogance he displays. But he uses people just as I do. This chess game we are playing is getting old. I've been waiting a very long time to change the rules.

"There will be very few people that will trust her. And very few people that she will trust. We must be those few," a small twisted smile crept on his lips as he turned his head to face his servant. "She should be angry with them. They didn't believe in her innocence, did they? They will regret that. I mean, shouldn't she want revenge? That is something we can give her," he paused to sigh. "Revenge. That word inspires such creativity in me."

"My Lord? Forgive me for asking - and please do not hit me - but how do we actually get her to our side? I do not think she will come...willingly." Wormtail sank back into the chair as far away from Voldemort as he could get while still sitting in the chair.

Again Voldemort thought before he spoke. His words still slow. "She bears my mark. It binds her to me as it binds you to me. I need only call to her and she will come to me. Her body, her soul- her mind. They are all mine. Eight years ago I marked her. I _claimed_ her. Hermione will always be mine."

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning in a cold sweat. A chilling voice echoed in her head, _always be mine. Mine. Mine._ She didn't remember having a dream last night but she felt like she was on the verge of remembering one. _Hermione! It was nothing. Just your imagination,_ she thought to herself.

Getting out of bed, Hermione stared out her balcony doors, the warm light feeling good on her skin. Reading in the common room, she decided, would be an excellent pursuit on a morning like this one. Walking out the door in the tank-top and lounge pants she used as pajamas, she made her way to the two comfy looking couches that faced each other. She ambled around the coffee table between them. When she turned to sit down she let out a short high-pitched scream. The person lying on the couched screamed, too. The backs of Hermione's knees hit the coffee table and she nearly lost her balance. The person stood and grabbed both of her forearms, then let go once she was firmly on her feet. On the opposite side of the room a door opened and Harry came out.

"What happened?" he asked. His wand was in his hand, ready to fight.

When Hermione didn't answer but just stared at him, he looked down and realized that he only had his boxers on. A cute yellow rubber ducky print. Hermione almost laughed out loud as he tried to cover himself before walking back into his room. Then she looked over to the man standing in front of her and blushed, looking away quickly. Harry emerged from his bedroom, having thrown on a pair of pants and a shirt.

"What happened?" he asked again.

"Hermione scared me. That's what happened. I thought you said she was coming on Thursday," explained the man.

"Draco. It's Friday," said Harry simply.

"It is? Hmm. Well that is interesting. I've spent too much time down in the dungeons. Welcome back, Hermione." Draco grabbed her hand, shaking it. She didn't return it, but he released her hand before she knew what was happening.

"Did you just... shake my hand?" Hermione asked, confusion clouding her face. Her once nemesis had just shaken her hand of his own accord. No Imperious curse or arm twisting.

She looked down. Then her head shot back up as a blush started to rise in her cheeks again.

"Draco did a one-eighty on us. He's a good boy now. Although he does have some moments of weakness. Like last week when he... Well. It's very rare now," replied Harry not looking at Hermione. His tone took on a twinge of frustration as if he hadn't meant to say that much to her.

Hermione started to panic, not knowing where to look.

"Wow. So, what are you doing here?" Hermione asked casually, looking at the ceiling briefly, then decided to divide her focus between some paintings around the room and Draco's amazingly healthy-looking hair.

"I'm teaching potions actually," said Draco, shortly. "What have you been doing?"

"Oh. I'm a doctor. Or I was. Well I still am. I just received a promotion but I had to turn it down for this. If I hadn't agreed to come back here then I don't think Professor Dumbledore or Arthur Weasley would have ever stopped bugging me about it," Hermione realized she was rambling. She gave a nervous chuckle. _My this is awkward._ She looked down, immediately raising her head. _Really awkward._ "How long have you been teaching?"

"Oh. It must be three years now," Draco replied.

"So I guess Snape finally retired. I always thought he would be here well into his eighties. Yelling at students for levitating his cane. That would explain why I didn't see him at dinner yesterday. Although I doubt he would join the group dinner unless he couldn't help it," Hermione said with a small smile. She chanced a look at Draco's eyes and saw him avoid her gaze. She turned her gaze to Harry as he glanced out one of the windows of the common room with an unreadable expression on his face.

"What?" No one said anything to her. "What happened?" Still no answer. "Would one of you say something! What happened to him?" Her voice forceful, searching for answers. Worry was creeping into her mind with scenarios of what had happened to her old potions teacher.

Hermione stared at Harry, waiting for him to turn and look at her. When he finally did, her look was expectant. One she often used when working with difficult patients. When he didn't move to explain, she turned to Draco with the same look. He looked at her, realization dawning on his face that he was about to be asked to divulge the truth, and his eyes went wide with panic.

"I...uh...suppose I should go put some clothes on. Nice seeing you again, Hermione!" Draco said, and ran from the room to a door that was in between hers and Harry's.

Harry took a few steps toward her. "Draco likes his morning nude time. It keeps him in a good mood so I don't push the issue. By eight he usually has at least underpants on."

When Hermione didn't respond, Harry took a deep breath and continued. "Three years ago, there was a riot in Diagon Ally. Snape was there. He was dueling with Draco's father," said Harry. Hermione's hand went to the base of her neck. "The hexes that they threw at each other mixed and Lucius was killed."

"And... and Snape?" Hermione asked hesitantly, a sinking feeling forming in the pit of her stomach.

"Snape fell into a coma."

Hermione took in a sharp breath.

"He's... He's still alive though, right? Is he at Saint Mungo's?" Hermione asked quickly.

Harry nodded. Hermione started to make her way to her quarters. Harry called to her.

"You're going to go see him, aren't you? Why? There's nothing you can do for him." Harry stated, his voice raised, a tendril of displeasure seeping in.

Hermione turned and glared at him. When she spoke her voice was cold, "I don't know Harry. Maybe because he was my friend. Maybe because he knew what I was going through after Voldemort put the mark on my arm. Or maybe because he was the only one who believed that I was innocent and stood by me like some other people I knew, people I called my friends, should have done. Take your pick Harry." Hermione finished her journey to her bedroom, took a quick shower and put her clothes on. She found that there was floo powder on the mantle. There was only one problem. No wand to light the fire. It didn't look like there were any matches either. _Damn!_

Hermione opened her door and walked swiftly across the common room to Draco's bedroom door. She hesitated with her hand raised. _I never thought the day would come that I would rather knock on Draco's door instead of Harry's,_ she thought.

She knocked and waited. She knocked again, harder this time but still no answer came. She expelled her breath fast before turning and proceeding to Harry's door.

She banged loudly. Harry opened the door slowly rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. It seemed he was trying to go back to sleep.

"I need you to light my fire," said Hermione. After she said it she realized her wording and blushed a little.

Harry raised his eyebrow and answered her, "Excuse me?"

"I need you to put a fire in my fireplace," replied Hermione.

Harry was still looking at her like she was crazy. Hermione quickly reviewed the words in her mind, _I need you to put a fire in my fireplace. Oh dang it!_

Hermione was now very frustrated with Harry's immature mind. "I don't have a wand. There aren't any matches either. Could you please start a fire so I can go to St. Mungo's."

"Sure," replied Harry simply with a shrug. Hermione led the way to her room and stood by the fireplace as Harry took out his wand and lit the wood that already rested there.

"Thank you," Hermione said curtly, taking the leather pouch of Floo powder from the mantle. She heard Harry leave the room, mumbling about if he was allowed to get back to sleep. Ignoring him, she threw some powder into the fire turning it a deep purple. Stepping into the deep hue flames she shouted her destination, "St. Mungo's!"

* * *

When she arrived, she found herself in the visitors' reception lobby. A large desk sat prominently in between two hallways. Hermione approached the desk and the witch that sat behind it.

"Excuse me. I'd like to know what room Severus Snape is in," asked Hermione politely.

A short chubby woman looked at Hermione with surprise. It took a moment before she shook herself and pulled out a thick leather-bound book. She hummed to herself as she searched the record book of patients. "He's in room one-fifteen. Down the hall, take a right. Go up the stairs, take another right. At the end of the hall take a left. His is the fifth room on the left side. But first sign the visitor book. Your name, patient name, room number, and date."

"Thank you," replied Hermione after signing the book. She walked away from the reception desk and down the hall. Making her way down the bare white hall and up the stairs, she took in the smell of hospital linens. They reminded her of the smell of her own hospital.

Hermione turned the last corner as instructed. Her pacing slowed as she saw Snape's room number posted clearly next to his door. She stopped and took a breath.

Hermione knocked lightly on the door. _What are you doing, idiot? He's in a coma,_ she thought. Hermione took another deep breath before entering the room.

Snape was lying flat on his back with one pillow under his head. His eyes were closed and his mouth was frowning, similar to how she remembered him.

_It would be much weirder to see him smiling,_ Hermione thought. _Well, not weird... creepy._

She walked to the wall and carried a plain wooden stool to his bedside. Sitting down, she gently took his hand and stared at his face. Except for a few more streaks of gray, he looked much the same.

_Wake up, wake up,_ she silently pleaded. _Open your eyes. Squeeze my hand. Anything! Just wake up. I need your help._

"It's Hermione," she started. "I know what you would say if you were awake right now... You would have said I was a silly girl for ever agreeing to this insane mission. Then again, if you were awake, I wouldn't be needed."

Hermione paused, realizing her words fell on deaf ears. Ears that once heard the truth from her. _Many people think that he's just a cruel cold-hearted man. They never saw the side that I got to see,_ Hermione thought, remembering.

_"Come with me Miss Granger." He led her down the hallway, and to his office._

_"Well, girl. I'd be very surprised if no one in that crowd saw that mark. What were you thinking? Getting into a fight with Miss Parkinson. You must try to readjust. Twenty points from Gryffindor." Professor Snape was pacing in front of the desk where Hermione sat._

_When Hermione didn't say anything, Snape stopped pacing and looked at her._

_Rubbing his forehead with his fingers he spoke again. "Miss Granger, you _must_ be more careful. This world isn't a happy place because you wish it to be. A lot of people are quick to accuse and ask questions when the aftermath comes." He moved right up to the desk and put his hand under her chin. He tilted her head upwards so he could look right into her eyes, making sure the impact of his words hit home._

_"You have been hurt very much in this last month. I do not wish you anymore pain because of some simpleminded people who are quick to judge and do not understand the situation. You have much potential to be an able witch and have a countless number of people who care for you. I'd hate to see that you let Voldemort take that away from you._

_"You should go. I believe the horrified expressions on Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley's faces could very well signify they saw that mark. You should talk to them. Tell them everything," Snape retracted his hand and moved to sit at his desk but Hermione stopped him by putting a hand on his sleeve._

_"Thank you, Professor," said Hermione as she walked around the desk and hugged him._

_Snape stiffened as if unsure what was going on. He patted her shoulder, quickly. Hermione remained where she was. "Miss Granger, I trust that you will release me unless you wish to lose an additional fifty points."_

_Hermione let him go and headed out of his office. _

_"You are welcome."_

_The words were quiet but she heard them. She followed the familiar pathway out of the dungeons and to her common room, a little glimmer of hope tugging at the corner of her lips._

Another memory floated to the forefront of her mind.

_Hermione put her house keys back into her bag. She dropped her coat with her bag onto the couch, hearing them both fall to the ground but not caring enough to pick them back up. She entered the kitchen of her parents' house, now her house, not bothering to flip the light switch. Hermione opened the fridge, lighting the entire kitchen and adjoining dining room. Turning before closing the fridge door, she dropped the lasagna she was going to reheat for dinner. It clattered to the floor, breaking the dish and littering the floor with cold chunky sauce. A man sat calmly at her dining room table, staring at her._

_"What are you doing here?" Hermione asked after she reached the kitchen light switch. She proceeded to get a towel and a garbage can to clean up the mess. "You could be put into Azkaban just for being near me."_

_"If I'm going to Azkaban for any reason, seeing you would be the least of my charges. I wanted to see how you were doing," Snape answered, standing._

_Hermione stopped and stared at her old potions professor. "It took you three months to come by and say hi? To see how I was doing? I'm doing great! Besides the fact that I have no formal muggle school records for the past six years, so I can't go back to school. What little money my parents had in their savings is running out fast because of the mortgage on the house. I have no family, no friends, nothing. And I just broke my mother's favorite dish!" Angry tears pooled in her eyes as she knelt to begin cleaning._

_Snape pulled his wand from his cloak in one fluid motion, unaffected by her harsh sarcastic tone. He muttered a spell quickly._

_"Don't do magic!" Hermione yelled, but too late._

_The delicate porcelain bowl sat before her on the ground. There were no cracks or chips. It had been perfectly restored. There was no sign of the lasagna._

_"Miss Granger," started Snape softly._

_"What do you want," demanded Hermione. Her voice was flat. She stared at the bowl, not once taking her eyes off it._

_Snape crouched down to eye-level with Hermione. "I want to help you."_

_Hermione'e eyes tore themselves from her mother's bowl to stare at him. "How? You're not even supposed to be here."_

_"Neither are you," he stated with a pointed tone. "You are a brilliant young woman. You do not deserve a life of mediocrity because of the mistakes of others. I can help give you a new life and a chance at a better life."_

_"I'm a witch, sir. Can you give that back to me? Anything less than that will keep me incomplete." Hermione stood, gently grabbing the bowl and setting it on the counter. She heard Snape stand from his crouched position._

_"That is the one thing I cannot give you. Please, Miss Granger. Think about what you could have. A career, a family, a life free of judgement." Snape leaned against the counter. Hermione could see him from the corner of her eye._

_"How can you give me that? With magic? Just wave your wand and everything is alright?" Hermione asked turning to face him, her words fueled by her anger. "There are some things magic can fix. I can't have my parents back. Or Harry and Ron. I can't get this damn mark off my arm!"_

_"I know I cannot replace anything you have lost," he voiced gently, so unlike his usual demeanor. "But you can survive this and start over. A clean slate. I know it isn't what you want but you must deal with the situation you have been given. You lived through the Dark Lord's assault. You are resilient."_

_Hermione's anger diminished. He was right. She could never get back what she had lost. Magic couldn't do it. She had survived Voldemort and the trial. But now she was drowning. She needed his help. Snape was risking his life to help her and he was the only one offering. A new life, free of magic._

_"How will you do it? How will it work?" Hermione's voice a whisper in the quiet kitchen._

_"Just think of what you want. You will need think of a profession you would like to join and a place you would like to live," answered Snape, simply. "I think it would be best if you relocated all together. Better chance of a fresh start."_

_Hermione thought for a moment. _

_"So if I wanted to be a doctor, you could swish and flick to make me a doctor," she said jokingly, naming a job she had once wanted as a child. She chucked to herself at the ridiculous notion of herself in a white coat and a stethoscope._

_Snape stared at her, seeming to not get the joke._

_"You mean you could make me a doctor? I'm only sixteen," Hermione stated, nearly choking on laughter. _

_"I wouldn't make you a doctor," said Snape. "I can start you on the path to becoming a doctor. Through schooling. Any school you would like."_

_"I can't pay for that."_

_"That is what scholarships are for." Snape's mouth curled upward at the corners._

_"And what about living arrangements? And paying for the living arrangements? And paying for food? Med school is pretty involved. I'll have time for little else. If I get a job, it will only be a part-time job and-"_

_"Miss Granger!" Snape's voice stopped her protests. "We will work everything out tomorrow. Right now rest and think about what you want your new life to be like."_

_ Snape stepped away from his position at the counter. _

_"Sir?" Hermione questioned before he could leave. "If I told you that I stole the boomslang skin from your storeroom in my second year, would that change your mind about this whole thing?"_

_Snape's eyebrow raised. A moment later a restrained smile fought to emerge. "I'm tempted, but no."_

_"I also want to apologize for setting your robes on fire."_

_"When did you set my robes on fire?" Snape asked, curiosity playing on his face._

_"My first year. The first Quidditch game when I thought you were cursing Harry," Hermione answered a tint of sadness creeping into her voice._

_"Apology accepted. I'll be back tomorrow." _

_Hermione blinked and he was gone._

"Miss? Miss? You all right?" There was a quick tapping on the doorframe.

Hermione turned to find the short chubby woman she had talked to earlier.

"Yes. Yes. I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Hermione kept her eyes steady on the woman as she walked to the other side of the bed.

"You've been sitting there, not moving for at least ten minutes. Say, I haven't seen you here before. What's your name?" The nurse looked at her with curiosity.

"Hermione Granger," she said simply, staring at the nurse, waiting for the typical response. It was times like these she wished she had changed her name.

"Granger? I've heard that name before. Oh yes. You're the one that was banished many years ago. How'd ya get back?"

"I stepped on a broomstick and broke off some twigs. The Ministry has decided to try me for assault with intent to murder," she quipped. She tried to hide her smile when confusion registered on the nurse's face. "The Minister of Magic lifted my banishment."

"Oh," answered the nurse confusion still clouding her brow. "I've seen your name somewhere else, though. Oh, I know where! I'll be right back," she said quickly as she hurried out of the room. She came back five minutes later carrying something.

"This was with his belongings when he was admitted," the nurse nodded her head at Snape. "Had a note on it. Said it was for you. I reckon he was going to give it to you that day, before the riot happened." She handed Hermione the heavy item. "I've been here since he arrived. He only ever got one visitor besides you and that was a week after the riot. That Dumbledore fellow. It's none of my business but I think it would do Mr. Snape some good to have more visitors."

"Thank you for getting this to me," said Hermione turning the large package over in her hands.

"Oh. No problem." The woman left.

Hermione turned her attention to the item in her lap. She saw it was a book of some sort. She picked up the letter that rested on top and opened it.

_Hermione, _

_ This book is for you. Read it. You may find some of the information proves valuable. Your part is not through._

-SS

Putting the note down she picked up the book. It was worn around the edges but besides that it was in rather good condition. On the front cover were faded bronze letters. Time had faded them so much she couldn't read the title of the author of the book. She held the book to her chest savoring that Snape, at least, still had faith.

"You saved me. Now, let me save you."

* * *

"Wormtail!"

"Yes, My Lord?'

Wormtail came to his master's feet and bowed before them.

"I want to go on a little outing. I hate being cooped up for too long. It makes me do crazy things. Like thinking you are a capable wizard," said Voldemort, his smile twisting hideously.

"M... My Lord?" Wormtail looked up to the man that towered over him, curious as to what reason he had to going out.

"I want to have a little fun. I'm getting bored, sitting around here. You know how killing entertains me. I'd rather not kill my own followers. I do have many but frankly I would kill according to weakness. And you, dear Wormtail, would get kicked off the island first," explained Voldemort, laughing a little to himself. He laced his fingers together.

"Master?" Wormtail squeaked.

"Arrange it, Wormtail, and you see another sunrise!"

* * *

Hermione sat at one of the large library tables, books strewn on its surface. Before leaving St. Mungo's, she had convinced the nurse she had spoken with to share all the information of Snape's condition. It had taken a lot of convincing and a small white lie about her being his niece.

Hermione was determined to find a cure for Snape. She knew it had been three years with no luck but she wanted to know for herself that everything had been done.

She was so engulfed in her work she didn't hear anyone enter the library.

"I figured it wouldn't take you long to show up here," quipped Draco as he approached her table.

Hermione looked up from the notes she had been taking, mildly surprised that there was no malice in his words.

Draco noticed and filled the silence. "Is there something in particular you are looking for? I may be able to help."

Hermione again didn't say anything for a moment. "I'm sorry but this is strange for me. Having you talk to me like we have no history. You are offering to help me and it's not a joke? The last time I saw you was the last class we shared together. I recall it clearly because you 'accidentally' dumped a full jar of bonemoss in my Purify Draught which blew a crater-sized hole in the floor."

"It's not a joke. I was hoping we could forget about the past. Maybe start over? Eight years is a long time, Hermione. Things happen, people change." Draco just stood in front of her. His handsome face was blank, no sneer or hate in his eyes.

Hermione had never seen him this passive. It irked her in some way.

"Do you know what your father's wand-core was?" Hermione said unflinching. She knew his father had always been a sore subject. She watched for his reaction.

"Yes," he answered quietly, no indication of anger.

"Then you can help me," she answered softly, guardedly.

"You're working on a cure for Snape, aren't you? Dumbledore had the best mediwizards try to figure out what happened to him. Everything has been tried, Hermione." Draco sat across from her, picking up one of the books.

"_I_ haven't tried everything. I'm a doctor. I do this for a living," Hermione stated. "I'm used to being elbow deep in blood for half my day. I'm going to find a cure. I'm going to save him. I owe him that much."

"_I knew it_. I knew you were sleeping with Snape back in school! That's why you got a better than passing grade. It explains everything!" said Draco, clarity lighting up his face.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, her voice ringing in the vaulted ceiling of the library. Luckily the librarian, Mrs. Nitram, was not at her post.

Draco's smile was broad and joyful with a hint of mischief. Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the joke he had made to relieve the tension.

"He was the only one who believed I was innocent," Hermione started, her smile dampened. "It's strange... Out of everyone in my life back then, he's the only one who cared." Hermione paused lost in thought. As the moment passed she looked up in to Draco's watchful, stormy grey eyes. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear this."

"Actually, I don't mind," Draco remarked casually. "Ron takes Harry's share of the conversation usually. Since Quidditch season is in full swing, he hasn't been around much. Harry is mostly in his own head and has been for a while. Neville hasn't quite taken to me yet, which I can understand. Then there are the older professors from our school days which is slightly strange. I have been teaching here for three years and I still haven't gotten used to working with them."

"So that just leaves me?" Hermione questioned with a mock accusation. "Thanks."

"Believe me, you are a breath of fresh air in this place," Draco uttered as his smile widened once again. "The possibility of intellectual conversations with you is endless. I finally have someone to challenge me again."

Hermione laughed as Draco turned up the charm.

"So, you want to know about the riot?" Draco inquired.


	7. No Matter What The Truth Is

Chapter 7: No Matter What the Truth Is

"Tell me again, Albus, _why_ we need her?" Moody asked with customary surliness in his voice. He paced back and forth the length of the table in the Headmaster's office. Half of the Order was assembled and seated. Smaller conversations could be heard but once Moody spoke, all attention was put on him and Albus.

"She can help us," Albus answered vaguely.

"Specifically - how?" Moody stopped his pacing and focused his attention on the older man. His magical eye even stilled and was fixed on him.

"She was here when the second war started. She may have key information about Voldemort she's unaware of. I have a feeling she is meant to be here."

"Oh... You have a _feeling_. Why didn't you say so? Come to think of it, I rubbed my magical eye last night and I have a feeling, too. She's going to be the end of us. With her being here it's inevitable. So why don't we all sit in our seats and wait to get slaughtered." Moody sat and crossed his arms over his chest, his face set in a scowl.

"Moody-" Sirius started, rolling his eyes.

"What? It was bad enough when Snape was here," grumbled Moody. "At least we knew from his history that he wasn't one to betray our cause. I wouldn't trust him with my life but I knew if it came down to it, he would at least give me a quick end. This girl could very well divulge to the Dark Lord everything we say in these meetings; all our plans. This is a bad idea, Albus. I hope we all don't wind up dead because of it."

"We've survived this long, Moody," said Neville. He was seated across the table and two seats away. "That is Albus' doing. He's kept us safe."

"Not all of us." Susan's voice was hollow. She leaned against one of the windows of the Headmaster's office, staring into the haze of early morning. Her husband hugged her from behind, their hands intertwined.

"Most of us." Neville revised somberly.

"You really don't realize how close we are to failing." Moody whispered the words the other members dared not say aloud. It was entirely quiet in the room so everyone heard his comment. His magical eye suddenly swiveled in his head, towards the door. "She's here and with that blonde poof you call a potion's teacher."

Everyone turned their attention to the door as it opened. They found Moody was right as Hermione and Draco walked through the door. Hermione paused when she saw everyone staring.

"Three guesses of who the subject of conversation was before we entered the room," Hermione quipped quietly to Draco.

"You," loudly answered Moody.

Hermione's eyes found Moody at the other end of the table near Albus. She gave a small smile. She had always appreciated Moody's gruff honesty.

"Please, everyone. Take your seats. We need to get started," Albus announced. Those standing occupied the remaining empty seats. Hermione and Draco took seats close to the door.

"I believe, since _she_ is now here, I should make a formal protest to her presence," Moody stated, standing.

"Sit down, Mad-eye," said Sirius roughly. "You're just going to embarrass yourself."

"I'm not going to wait to end up on the wrong end of her wand-"

"You said earlier you were going to wait for the slaughter," Albus said, his tone bemused.

"That was sarcasm, Albus. I'm sure I'm not the only one here who has concerns." Quiet murmurs amongst the members began. "Did you even consider what the boy may think?"

The room hushed and turned its attention to Harry. Everyone knew Moody always referred to Harry as 'the boy'.

Harry paid no attention to the stares.

"Let me make this clear," Albus started loudly. His voice strong with importance. "Dr. Granger is here to stay and if anyone can see a problem with that, you may leave. But I will consider it a resignation from the Order."

All eyes went to Moody. The members waited to see if he made a move to leave. He just stood, staring at Albus and his challenge. Moody slowly lowered himself into his seat.

Hermione could see Sirius put his hand up to his mouth to cover the growing smirk on his lips. She mirrored him, trying to hide her own budding smile.

"Now, we have gained some intel that the robbery on The Historical Wizarding Museum of Ancient and Modern Artifacts was indeed the work of Death Eaters. I received a report from Magical Law Enforcement Patrol. What was stolen was a collection recently donated to the museum as well as a multitude of archived artifacts. Unfortunately the donation was anonymous and uncatalogued but the artifacts that were in storage are another story. The interim curator will be sending the files of each of the artifacts. The curator was unfortunately killed in the process of the robbery.

"Hermione," continued Albus. "I would like you to go through the files when they arrive."

She gave the Headmaster a nod as whispers bubbled up from the room's occupants. Hermione gave a quick glance in Harry's direction. He sat, staring down at the table, undisturbed by the mutterings. Hermione's gaze shifted to Ron who was next to Harry.

He was leaning in and whispering to a familiar petite woman on his other side. She noticed that their hands were clasped.

"Another matter has come to my attention. A small group of Death Eaters was spotted in the town of Woodstock in Oxfordshire. It is a primarily muggle town but the mother of one of our current students owled me when she recognized one of the Death Eaters: Peter Pettigrew. I am sending Tonks to scout the area. Alastor, I'd like you to join her. Stay in the shadows. We don't want Voldemort knowing what we are doing."

Moody's magical eye swiveled to Hermione's direction. She knew what he was thinking and she couldn't help but feel a little smug that he couldn't do anything about it.

The meeting continued for another half hour. Most of it was the members reporting the progress of their assignments. Much of it Hermione didn't understand. She thought it was partly because the members kept their explanations to the bare minimums. Hermione noticed many suspicious glances in her direction as they reported their findings.

When the meeting was done, Albus asked Hermione to stay before turning to talk with Neville and Harry. Draco turned to Hermione whispering quickly to her. "I have to get some lesson plans ready for the school year. I'll see you later?"

She nodded as he stood. She stayed seated, busying herself with looking down at her nails while waiting for everyone to walk by. She could feel every set of eyes on her as the members passed. From the corner of her eye she could see a pair of legs stop a few feet from her. Hermione didn't have to see who was in front of her to know who stopped. She gazed up to find Moody before her, a scowl on his face. She kept her face impassive.

"You betray us again and I will happily go to Azkaban for whatever I do to you," came his raspy voice. Both of his eyes were trained on her.

"You touch her, old friend, and you won't get a chance to go to Azkaban," Sirius replied, a broad tight smile on his face. He grabbed the other man by the arm and led him out of the room but not before giving Hermione a quick wink.

She returned a small forced smile. She had always admired Moody. Now he was whispering threats at her. _He won't be the last to do so._ Hermione closed her eyes at the thought.

Once the thought was gone, she raised her chin and opened her eyes, immediately finding Harry's gaze locked onto her. He was still standing with Neville and Albus, though it seemed the conversation was just between the other two.

Hermione watched as Harry slowly looked away from her and brought his attention to the conversation. She wondered how long he had been staring.

A minute later Harry strolled out of the room without a word.

Albus motioned for Hermione to join him and Neville.

"I believe, since classes will be starting soon, you should get a wand and some supplies. You'll need some time to practice if you are going to aid Professor Tobbletop. Neville here has offered to take you to Diagon Alley and I think it is a splendid idea. You two will be able to catch up," said Dumbledore, obviously more relaxed now that the meeting was over.

"Oh. Umm. Okay. I guess I could use a wand. I haven't thought about it until now." _I've been so long without a wand,_ she thought. A shiver of fear and excitement crept up her spine.

"We could even drop by Florean Fortescue's for some ice cream," said Neville. His smile widened as he continued. "I haven't been there in ages."

"Sure." Hermione answered simply.

"And there's always Flourish & Blott's," Neville suggested slyly.

Hermione's smile perked up at the mention of the bookstore.

Albus chuckled. "I suppose you should get going then."

* * *

Sirius paced outside of the Headmaster's office, waiting for his godson. Minutes passed before Harry finally appeared.

"Hey," Harry said in greeting when he noticed Sirius.

"I've got some time and I'm starving. Let's go to the kitchens," Sirius suggested.

"Sure." Harry shrugged as he lead the way down the hallway.

"What did Albus want?" Sirius inquired as they strolled down a staircase and through another corridor.

"He was hoping I would take Hermione to Diagon Alley to get a wand," Harry answered. "If any one shouldn't have a wand, Hermione is at the top of the list." He chuckled to himself.

"Why is that funny?"

Harry turned his head to look at his godfather. "It's funny that he even suggested it. I think that Albus has finally lost it."

Sirius stopped walking. It took Harry a moment to realized Sirius wasn't beside him. He backtracked to where the other man stood. "The kitchens are down one more floor."

"Is it that insane for Albus wanting Hermione to be able to defend herself while she's in the Wizarding World? I know he's not the brightest 'Lumos' around but sometimes he has a good reason for what he does. She may become a target of the Death Eaters."

"Why are you siding with him?" Harry asked in an accusing tone. "And with Hermione? You seem to defend her every chance you get. Like today, with Moody."

"I'm not siding with Albus," Sirius said. He held his hands up in a surrender pose. "I am thinking about Hermione's safety. So yes, I defend her. No one else is. Moody was threatening her life. You haven't been where she has, Harry."

"Neither have you," stated Harry in the heat of the argument. He instantly realized his mistake. Harry was cut off before he could continue.

"How easily you forget..." Sirius' voice trailed, his face betraying his anger. "I have to go."

"I thought you said you were hungry?" Harry asked quietly.

"Not that hungry anymore," answered Sirius gruffly as he brushed passed his godson and down the hall.

"What if it were you, Sirius? What if Albus brought Peter in here and asked you to escort him around?" Harry asked raising his voice.

Sirius stopped and turned, facing Harry. "Well, there is one major difference between them, Harry," Sirius paused before responding. "Peter was guilty."

Sirius went to walk down the hall again but turned instead. He headed back to his godson.

"I expect that kind of thinking from Moody. He's always been like that. The Order members, they don't know any better. I am so angry right now because I know you, Harry. I know you _know_ better. You saw what I went through. You know that sometimes it's not that simple." Sirius paused to catch a breath. "I expect more from you because I love you. And I know you are better than those bigots like Moody. Please... don't prove me wrong."

Sirius continued down the stairs and out of sight.

* * *

As the bricks moved Hermione felt anxious and excited at the same time, wondering if it would all be the same.

It was. Hermione's stomach had butterflies in it, just like the first time she had walked through the brick archway.

Dozens upon dozens of wizards and witches crowded the stone streets of the alley. The noise of the conversations hit Hermione like a blast of wind. Owls were screeching and cats were meowing. To anyone else it would be meaningless sounds but to Hermione it was music to her ears. Music she hadn't heard in a long time.

Walking down the street Hermione remembered all the places she had gone to for her schooling supplies. But everywhere she turned, she saw people whispering and pointing. She started to think this wasn't the best idea.

She could see that Neville, too, noticed the people. He made a point of small talk and jokes that would only have been funny if they were younger. Neville pointed out the usual crowd of children, staring into the window of the Quality Quidditch Supplies store, where the newest broomsticks model were first released. She couldn't help but laugh noticing the nose prints from the previous adult admirers.

They continued their stroll down the alley passing many shops. They passed by Flourish & Blott's. Hermione could hardly stop herself from running into the store. She took a deep breath and reasoned with herself that her wand was the first priority. The next store they came upon was Ollivander's.

"Hermione, is it all right if I go to get some supplies for my classes while you get a wand?" asked Neville as they stood outside of the shop.

"Sure," replied Hermione nervously, putting her hand on the doorknob. She didn't really want to be left alone but she thought it would have been rude to say something. She felt like a scared child that needed her parent to guide her.

Neville gave her a reassuring nod before making his way through the crowded street. "I'll be right back."

She fought through her feelings and pushed open the door. A chime sounded as she opened the door. Mr. Ollivander was standing at his desk, writing in the book on it.

"Vine, Dragon Heartstring. Ten and three-quarters of an inch long. Good for enchantments and bewitching minds. Miss Granger." Mr. Ollivander looked up. His leathery wrinkled face expressionless. "I didn't think I would be seeing you. Ever again, in fact. "

"No one else did either. I just need a wand for a little while. I'm not planning on staying long so do you have a sort of wand rental or something?" Hermione asked as she walked up to the desk.

"Wand rental?" He stared at her as if she had asked to break some wands for fun. "You should know better, Miss Granger. There is only one wand suited for each wizard.

He paused. "I received a package last month. With a note. It asked me to fix the wand within," said Mr. Ollivander as he traveled to a back room. A moment later he came back into the main room of the shop with a small, thin package.

"I fixed the wand you sent. Some of my best work. It will conjure as if it had never been snapped. That will be three Galleons for the repairs." Mr. Ollivander put the package on the desk in front of her. He looked at it longingly. It seemed as if he didn't want to let it go.

"I didn't send it to you," said Hermione, her words slow with confusion. "I didn't even get the pieces when it was snapped."

"Well, someone did, and it's your wand." His voice was impatient. "You do want it, don't you?"

Hermione paid him with some of the money she had exchanged and walked quickly out of the underlit, overflowing shop. When she was out of the store, she opened the box. She studied the wand as her heart rate increased.

It had been eight years since she had touched it. Since she had last used it to work a spell. It had been so long she couldn't even remember the last spell she had performed. With hesitance she touched it. Hermione thought she might experience a shock upon contact but that was not the case. There was a slight tingling in her hand. The wand warmed in her hand and hummed as if recognizing her. She smiled to herself, not realizing how much she missed the feel of magic.

As she lifted the wand she pulled some of the cloth that rested on the bottom of the box. A small piece of parchment fluttered to the ground. She picked it up and read it.

_Welcome Home, Hermione._

The script was unfamiliar to her. _Who kept my wand for all these years? And how did they know I was coming back before I did?_ thought Hermione. Her breathing began to labor. _Who sent this?_

"What's that?" asked Neville's voice next to her.

Hermione jumped, her pulse racing in her ears as she put the note and wand back into the box and closed it.

"Oh nothing. Just a little note I found in my wand box. You know, a customer service thing. So are we done here?" asked Hermione trying to distract him. It seemed to work.

"Albus thought it would be wise to get you some robes for-," Neville didn't get a chance to finish the sentence because there was a blast of light at the end of the alley. People were screaming and running past Hermione and Neville. One lady ran by screaming, "Death Eaters are here. Death Eaters are here. Run for your lives!"

Hermione turned to run down the alley to where the blast was but a pair of strong arms held her back. They turned her back around to face Neville. _Since when did he get so strong?_ she asked herself.

"What do you think you are doing?" Neville asked her loudly to be heard over the commotion.

"If the Death Eaters attacked, then there are people hurt. I'm a doctor. I can help them," replied Hermione just as loudly.

"Hermione. I know you are a doctor and you're compelled to help people but as long as you have that mark on your arm you are no different from them, no matter what the truth is. If you are caught with your sleeve up then we'll lose you again because the laws have changed since you've last been here. Arthur won't be able to save you. We can't afford that. We don't have time for that." Neville said as gently as he could, but with all the screaming he had to yell himself.

Neville let go of one of her arms. He pulled her into one of the nearby shops. Before the door closed Hermione looked back. She saw a group of Death Eaters. Their masks were illuminated by the multitude of colors from each curse blasting out of their wands. Her heart pulled. Part of her wanted to go and help everyone those hexes affected. Another part of her wanted to remember every curse she ever knew and face the Death Eaters that were slowly traveling toward her.

The store was abandoned but she knew why Neville brought her here. He dragged her up to the fireplace and took a small pouch from his belt and threw some powder into the fire.

"Go, Hermione. We're going back to the Hog's Head Tavern," said Neville in a hurry.

Hermione stepped into the fire and yelled her destination.

Within moments she stood, slightly dizzy, in a dimly lit pub with no occupants except for the owner. Aberforth Dumbledore looked up from the bar curiously.

Hermione was going to answer his look but Neville came rolling out of the fireplace. He knocked her over. She fell hard, on her back. She yelped in pain.

Aberforth strode over to help Hermione. He offered her his hand.

"What are you trying to do, Neville, kill the girl?" he questioned.

"Sorry, Aberforth. We were in a hurry. The was an attack in Diagon Alley. Death Eaters," replied Neville getting up and dusting himself off.

"What?"

There was another yelp of pain. Hermione had been half way to her feet with Aberforth's assistance when he was informed about the attack. The pub owner dropped her on her tailbone and she hit it, hard.

"Oh, my dear. I am so sorry. Let me help you," said Aberforth, crouching to help her once again.

Hermione just held up her hand to stop him. With trouble Hermione got up. When she tried to straighten up, she hunched right back over.

"I think I need to get to the Hogwart's hospital wing." Hermione said through clenched teeth, her hands on her knees for support.

The two men went to help her but she spoke to stop them as she saw their feet move forward. "It's okay. I'll make it. I can get there on my own."

"Yes, Hermione, and that is after you walk in the wrong direction for how long? Come on. I'll carry you to the infirmary," said Neville. He picked her up, ignoring her protests of medical facts and advice, and walked out of the pub and down the street of Hogsmeade to the school.

* * *

"There you go. How do you feel, Dr. Granger?" Madam Pomfrey fixed Hermione up in a minute.

"Do you really want to know?"

"I did ask." The nurse nodded.

_Well, I feel confused, sad, anxious, crappy, old, angry, used, excited, rotten, bruised, and tired. Oh, but wait, there's more. My life has changed so drastically in the past month I think my head is still spinning. Besides the fact that a few minutes ago my back felt like the punching bag of a heavy weight boxer, I think I'm having a mental breakdown. Do you have anything to cure mental breakdowns?_ Hermione thought quickly, yelling in her head.

"Fine. I feel fine," she answered the healer.

"Good," replied Madam Pomfrey softly, a sympathetic look dawning her face as if she knew Hermione was lying. "You can go whenever you like." She walked off to her office as Neville walked in.

"Are you feeling better?" Neville asked.

"Yes. Very much," she replied, still sitting on the bed Neville had placed her on. "Um... Thank you for earlier. For stopping me in Diagon Alley. I've spent years helping people. It's just instinct now. I didn't even think about where I was. And thank you for getting me to the infirmary."

"Oh. Don't mention it. You've gotten me out of so many things, I can't even count them all. It's a little of my debt repaid. And to be honest, I'm glad to get that chance," he answered her sincerely.

She studied him as she had studied many of the people she had once known. He had turned into a confident and strong adult. He was older, of course, but she did see regret and a tiredness in him. Hermione remembered back to what Arthur had said in his study and now that she was encountering more people, she saw it. A tiredness of those who were worn down by war. It didn't sit well in her chest. Neville had already suffered the loss of his parents, not to death, but insanity. He deserved a good happy life. And with her efforts she could give him that.

Hermione smiled, contrary to how she really felt and hopped off the infirmary bed. She exited the infirmary feeling physically better, telling herself that there was another person she was doing this for.

* * *

Neville sat at his desk in his office, trying to complete his lesson plans before the term started. The day's events kept creeping into his mind. Neville finally gave in, taking a break from his work and delving into his thoughts.

Hermione's instinct had kicked in just as his had. He wanted to go after the Death Eaters and protect the innocent people in the alley. But he knew they were out numbered and he knew his orders. Albus was clear. Keep Hermione safe and that's what he did.

Another thought had kept tugging at the back of his mind since he found out Hermione was coming back. The memory of the day eight years ago when he saw the dark mark on Hermione's arm.

It had been a Hogsmead weekend. Neville and the rest of the boys in his dorm were at The Three Broomsticks enjoying a drink. They all rushed to the window when they heard blasts coming from the street. A small group of Death Eaters were throwing curses at anyone who passed. Those able began yelling counter-curses. The Death Eaters disapparated save for one that was lying on the ground.

Neville had stared in shock. The hood had been pulled back to reveal Hermione. He remembered clearly the feeling in his stomach as he saw her face and the blank stares of Harry and Ron. He never understood their reaction. Eight years had passed and that question still hung in his mind.

Despite all the evidence that was presented, Neville always knew Hermione was innocent. This was Hermione. She was loyal to the end. Neville knew Voldemort had taken her and set her up, throwing a blow at Harry.

Neville shook his head trying to get rid of his thoughts. All of that didn't matter now. She was here and for some reason he felt a new hope rising in his chest. He smiled to himself, glad to have her back.

* * *

Hermione jerked awake, remnants of a dream slipping from her mind like sand. She was in her room at Hogwarts, in the clothes she had worn yesterday. She was lying on her stomach, atop her bed. Her wand lay next to her, neatly tucked in its box. She clutched the note in her hand. Sun streamed through the many windows, warming her back.

Hermione focused on the note. She examined it closely. A shiver of fear ran up her spine as she thought of the possibilities of who had written it.

"With my luck, it's probably someone who wants to kill me," Hermione said to herself. "But that's not really a stretch being here."

"Would you please stop talking to yourself? You'll go crazy that way," said a voice from the corner of her room.

Hermione whirled around on her bed. "You!"


	8. And I'll Believe the Truth

Chapter 8: And I'll Believe the Truth

Parker placed her keys in the key holder on the little table right by the door. She had just gotten home from a wedding that she had catered and from the market.

Walking through the apartment, Parker slowly made her way to the kitchen and nearly dropped the bags in her arms when she turned the light on. Sirius Black leaned against one of the kitchen counters. His arms were crossed and he was staring at the floor.

"Dear goodness! You scared the daylights out of me!"

Sirius looked up at the young witch. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention."

"We need to put a bell on that dog collar of yours... Well, we need to get an actual dog collar first," said Parker strolling to the counter and setting down her groceries. "Are you hungry? I can whip something up for you, if you'd like?"

"No. I'm not hungry. I need to-"

"Are you sure?" Parker interrupted. She busied her shaking hands with unloading the groceries. "I make this fabulous chicken dish. It's my grandmother's recipe. It will be the best thing you ever tasted."

"No. Parker, I need-"

"Sirius! If you tell me Hermione is dead, I will hit you with this salami!" Parker forcefully interrupted him again, brandishing the mentioned meat. Parker's lower lip was quivering as her eyes started to water.

"I'm sorry Parker." Sirius encircled Parker with his arms as she began to sob.

* * *

Harry sat in the library sifting through books upon books, hoping to find a powerful object Voldmort might have an interest in possessing. Looking at the grandfather clock near the entrance of the library, he groaned. It was nearly four in the morning and he had been searching since early the previous night, only stopping to take a break for dinner. His eyelids were now feeling very heavy.

_Better get some rest,_ thought Harry.

Harry quickly put the books away and left the library with barely a sound. He navigated the hallways with ease even though he was half asleep. When Harry reached the picture of Atlantis and mumbled the password. He flopped down onto a couch near his door, too tired now to even make it to his room.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall paced in front of Albus Dumbledore, who sat in a plush scarlet chair by the fire in his office.

"We must work faster. Voldemort is getting restless. He is nearly in a position to crush us. He proved that yesterday! Five people are dead and a dozen more are hurt. Tobbletop... was among the five," said Minerva. She was ringing her hands awkwardly, as if she didn't know what else to do with them.

Albus sat up in his chair, a shocked expression on his face. "What?"

Minerva stopped her pacing and faced the headmaster. "I was called to the Ministry to identify her. It seems she was getting some new robes for classes."

Albus leaned back into his chair, closing his eyes. Minerva studied the older man, waiting for him to reply. When a minute passed, she decided to continue. "I know this may be inconsiderate to Tobbletop's memory but we must find a new Charms professor quickly. Flitwick has been retired for six years now. He won't want to come back. Frankly, I don't think we should have him teach again after what he did on his last day. And I thought only students did pranks! Remember poor Severus, stuck on his office ceiling for ten hours with that wig and make-up. It took another five hours to get that off. Who will we find? Oh, it's already late August!"

Albus kept his silence, his eyes still closed and his hands folded over his chest. Finally he opened his eyes, leaning forward to meet Minerva's gaze.

"Hermione," he replied simply, as if it were an obvious truth. The twinkle in his eyes traveled down to his lips.

Minerva turned her back to him and stared broodingly into the fire, a frown creasing her forehead. "We have already asked so much of her. We must not put too much of a strain on her. I know she has a great mind and she's always been good at multi-tasking, but a person can only take so much."

"I'm sorry to hear you have lost so much faith in Hermione. I believe that she is capable," replied Albus.

"I haven't lost faith in her. She hasn't practiced magic in years. She didn't finish school and she hasn't achieved a teaching degree. It isn't practical! You could take over the Charms position until we can find a replacement. Or if that does not suffice, I am sure each of the staff could pitch in and use their free periods to teach Charms. Besides it wouldn't be legal if Hermione taught!" Minerva snapped, her nostrils flaring. She sat down in a chair near Albus, her shoulders slumping.

"She was advancing far beyond her year. Learning things most witches would never learn. It may not be practical but she is what we have. She adapts. It's what she has always done. She shall do it again.

"It wouldn't be fair to the students to have the Professors trade them off like cards. That kind of education is not the caliber they deserve. And since when have I followed the law?" Albus gave a hard chuckle.

Minerva stood knowing that he had already decided and there was no point in arguing. She walked to the large door of his office. Her footsteps, usually inaudible on the many carpets, thudded like weights. She opened the door and paused to speak.

"What are we doing, Albus?" Minerva's voice held a pleading note.

His face was stoic, even his eyes betrayed no emotion. "We are trying to win a war."

Minerva gave a slow nod and walked out the door leaving Albus in peace.

* * *

"You!"

"Yes. Me," said the man, smiling as if her reaction had amused him immensely. His smile quickly turned into a horrible smirk as his gaze raked across her body.

"You're dead. I was told you were dead," muttered Hermione, scrambling off the bed and putting it between herself and the intruder.

"No one stays dead nowadays. I believe Lord Voldemort perfected it. You aren't happy to see me?" He cooed, taking a step towards her. "It has been a long time, Hermione."

Hermione had her hands behind her back; her fingertips could feel the wall. Her heart was pounding in her throat.

"Don't come any closer or I'll... I'll scream, Lucius!"

Lucius Malfoy's smirk widened. "Oh, please do. Shout, scream, and moan all you want. I've put a silencing charm on this room. I wanted us to have some privacy." His eyes scanned her figure again, his gaze ravenous.

Hermione paled, and bolted suddenly for the door. She was so hurried, her hand slipped on the knob the first time she tried to turn it. As she tried a second time Lucius reached her, grabbing both her arms painfully behind her back. She heard a sickening pop. A searing pain filled her right shoulder. Lucius let go and turned her around, now grabbing her throat, pressing her to the wall. He lifted her a few inches, to her toes, and leaned close, snarling in satisfaction as she struggled. She grasped at his hand with her good arm and kicked out at him with her legs. Lucius just smiled at her, enjoying her struggle.

"You won't get away that easily, my dear," growled Lucius. "You have caused me far too much trouble since the day we met. Luckily, I got an eight year break. If it were up to me I would have killed you the second the Dark Lord captured you. That would have sent a clear message to Potter and Dumbledore." He slammed her back against the wall. The back of her head hit hard. She had to blink to clear the darkness from her eyes.

"Unfortunately, I am under orders not to have my way with you," his eyes flashed in excitement. "Just to give you a message. He wants to see you. My Lord wants you to come to our next meeting. He will not take no for an answer. The first Saturday after school starts. Be there at noon. And believe me, you don't want to be late," Lucius said softly.

"What makes you think I would ever willingly meet with him?" Hermione choked out through her terror.

His unused hand reached into his robes quickly, he drew out his wand, jabbing it into her sternum. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Hermione's body went rigid.

Lucius looked her over, seeming to consider her. Wand still in hand he grabbed her left forearm, forcing it to turn through the curse. He uncovered the mark that connected them. "You belong to Him now. You have no choice."

He placed his wand back into his robe, a cruel smile in place on his lips. His now free hand roamed her body starting at her knee and traveling up her thigh slowly. When Lucius reached her backside he groped at her liberally, his eyes alight with malicious pleasure. His hand continued it's journey up her side and under her shirt. He fumbled upon her breast with brutal force. Lucius removed his hand and placed it at her collar bone. He pulled her face to his, smashing his lips upon hers. She did the only thing she could, shut her eyes, hoping for a swift end to this assault.

Moments later he pulled back and in one swift motion ripped her shirt down the front, revealing her bra.

"Just because I hate you, doesn't mean I don't want to screw you in more ways than one," he cooed to her.

She looked down to see Lucius retrieve a knife from his robes. It's sharp silver blade gleamed dangerously in the morning sun. Finally released from his grip, Hermione crashed to the floor, unable to move her arms or legs. Her head cracked as it hit the ground. She saw the ripples on the floor from her fall. She turned her wild gaze to him, unable to move her mouth to scream.

He reached out and pushed away the pieces of her silky, short sleeved blouse, to expose her. Hermione's wide eyes were trained on his sharp knife. She bit her tongue and tasted blood in her mouth. The dark steel hilt was wrought with gold and silver runes and symbols. Despite her terror, Hermione strained to get a better look at them. Some she thought she recognized, but others were alien to her.

Smiling, Lucius steadily moved his arm, positioning the knife a few inches above her throat. Hermione trembled beneath the blade. A small whimper escaped her throat. Lucius grinned more broadly, almost like a young boy at play.

"I would love to, but not yet," he said silkily.

He moved the knife down to her exposed ribs. Suddenly intent on his deed, he turned from her horrified expression and concentrated on what he was doing. He dragged the knife over her skin, crossing two straight lines, making a sort of 'X'. Blood sprang from the cuts and dripped down her side. It oozed onto the floor beside her.

Lucius drew back the blade and inspected his work. In her head, Hermione screamed in pain. She felt nauseated, and thought she would faint. She squeezed her eyes closed, trying to block out the pain. Her breaths came quick and hard as bile rose in her throat. Hermione pried her eyes open and looked at Lucius.

He was sitting back, not looking at her, but at the blade he was cradling in his hands. It almost seemed to glow for a moment, but the eerie shimmer was gone before she even knew for certain that she had seen it. Seeming satisfied, Lucius finally looked back at her.

He retrieved a handkerchief from his cloak and wiped the blade before replacing it. He reached into his cloak again, pulling a different knife, with a plain hilt. He grabbed her right arm and turned her body so she was on her side. Hermione hissed in pain at the contact with her dislocated shoulder.

Lucius kept his eyes trained on her as he drove the plain knife into her lower back. Her eyes widened in agony as all the breath was forced from her body. She screamed in her head, hoping someone, somehow would hear her. He pulled the knife from her back and pushed her her body so she was now on her back. Lucius rose gracefully from his crouched position.

"You will be sent a portkey. Do not be late," were Lucius' last words before he traveled across the room. He opened the balcony door and closed it, climbing the white marble railing. He took another object from his cloak and disappeared.

Hermione's upper body screamed in pain as her toes and feet grew cold and numb.

There were three short knocks on her door.

"Hermione? I heard some noise in there. Are you okay?" Draco's muffled voice came through the door.

_He lied about the silencing charm,_ Hermione thought, hating herself for believing him and not screaming when she had the chance.

"Hermione?"

She tried to speak, but was unable due to the body-bind curse. The coppery taste in her mouth grew stronger. It filled her throat and her breathing began to labor. She was drowning in her own blood. She coughed trying to clear the blood but the sound was barely audible.

Hermione heard Draco try the knob but saw that the door didn't open. It was locked. Draco said something, but Hermione couldn't hear what it was. Her eyes felt heavy. She faintly heard Draco's last loud knock, her pulse filling her ears.

She saw the door open towards her and Draco facing the balcony. "Hermione?"

Hermione coughed again, blood now running out of her mouth and down her face. She could feel it pooling on the floor beneath her. Draco turned, finally seeing her.

Hermione's world faded into darkness from the pain as Draco fell to his knees beside her. The last thing she saw was Draco's horrified expression.

* * *

Harry jerked awake when he felt something hard come in contact with his head.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" Ron moved Harry's legs off the couch so he could sit and, not so surreptitiously, hid the heavy book behind his back.

"Oh, no. I was already awake," replied Harry, sarcastically. "What time is it?"

"Quarter 'til noon," Ron answered, bringing the book back out and opening it to read.

"Damn. I didn't mean to fall asleep on the couch. I guess I just sat down and dozed off. Why didn't you wake me earlier?" Harry demanded, rubbing the spot on his head that was hit.

"Because I just got here." Ron didn't bother to look up from his book.

"Ahh. Harry, you're awake. Finally," said Draco. He suddenly appeared in the common room from his bedroom.

"Yeah. No thanks to you," retorted Harry, scowling in his roommate's direction. "What time did you wake up?"

"I think I was probably up by nine. Why?" Draco questioned.

"Oh. No reason... just maybe you could have woken me up!" Harry tried to stand but only succeeded in falling over on his stiff legs. He groaned and rolled over onto the ground, making a second attempt to get up.

Ron and Draco both tried to conceal their grins.

Suddenly there was a loud thud against Hermione's door.

"What was that?" Draco started to walk to Hermione's door but Harry called him back.

"It's was probably nothing. She's most likely still asleep," said Harry. He got up and moved back to the couch, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes. He grimaced suddenly. "Though, of course, it's not like she was up late last night researching this artifact or whatever it is or actually doing anything useful." He turned to Ron. "Maybe we should wake her up..."

Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry, then looked back down at his book.

"Don't even think about it. We'll get much more done without her."

Draco moved slowly to a couch opposite the one that Harry and Ron were seated on. He looked uncomfortable; he tried leaning back into the plush couch and putting his feet on the table, then repositioned himself again. Finally he turned and faced them.

"You know, you're going to have to get over it. She's not the enemy." Draco looked away and frowned, deep in thought. "She never was."

Harry leaned forward, having noticed the slightly bitter tone in his voice. He studied Draco intently for a moment. "What's wrong?"

Draco snapped his head up. "What do you mean?" he responded a little too quickly.

"Is something wrong?" Harry repeated. Green eyes locked on gray. Draco narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking more like the boy that Harry had known at school. Harry felt a chill, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

Noticing the extreme quiet and tension in the air, Ron looked up from his book.

Draco was gripping the side of the couch so hard his knuckles were white. Harry was sitting up straight and too rigidly, as he often did when he was angry or threatened. There was only one thing to do.

Draco and Harry both jumped at the loud bang that Ron's book made as it hit the stone floor.

"Nothing's wrong," Draco answered finally. "Nothing. I just don't think that you two are treating Hermione in a very appropriate manner." He looked pointedly at Ron.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Not an appropriate manner? She lied to us! She betrayed Harry, practically got him killed! She has been the enemy for years, and now all of a sudden, since my dad and Albus thinks that she can help us, she's trying to worm her way back and get us to trust her again! In my mind she is still as...as..." He paused for a moment, then sighed. "She is still just the same enemy that she became eight years ago."

Harry had been staring off at the floor as Ron spoke. Finally he looked up and met Ron's gaze before shifting it away again. "Ron. We need her. You know we need her. I hate admitting it. I hate admitting that I need anything from her anymore. But your dad and Dumbledore are right. She could hold some secret to ending this. And I want this to end. I want Voldemort gone. I'm tired... I'm not saying you have to be overly nice just be civil to her. She'll probably leave as soon as Voldemort is gone."

Harry stared fixedly ahead. Ron stared at his profile. He looked at first glance, like a regular twenty-four year old man. When Ron looked into his eyes he could see that this fight, the struggle that had started for Harry when he was only one year old, was taking its toll.

Ron was about to reply but there was a loud thud from Hermione's room. Draco started.

"I think I should see if Hermione is awake."

"She's still asleep. Let her be," said Ron, his nose back in his book, and a determined scowl on his face. "Or she's just trying to get attention."

"Do you make loud thudding noises when you're asleep, Ron?" Draco questioned in a condescending tone he often used in his younger days.

"Not when I'm asleep but most certainly when I'm in bed," laughed Ron as his book slid closed onto his lap. Harry offered up a chuckle to his comment.

"So you think Hermione has a man in there?" Draco inquired. He leaned forward on the couch waiting for their reactions.

The other two men's smiles faded.

Ron scowled before speaking again. "You certainly know how to kill a conversation, Draco. I don't want to think about her doing... whatever with whoever. That's not on my things to do before I die list," remarked Ron shaking his head as if he had unwanted images.

"Maybe it's Neville?" Draco replied giving a shrug. His lips held a lazy smile, one he used while he was playing mind games with them. "Maybe it's Albus? Or perhaps Sirius... Didn't you say, Harry, they seemed kind of friendly? Maybe a little too friendly?"

"Oh please stop! I don't need those images!" Ron exclaimed shaking his head almost violently. He once again picked up his book and continued to read.

"Albus would never. He's too focused on the war to think about anything else. Besides the moral dilemma of getting involved with a former student, he's more than a century older than her," Harry began. "And Sirius-"

"Would _befriend_ any breathing woman," Draco finished.

"And maybe some that don't." Ron muttered under his breath.

"Wouldn't get involved with someone my age or younger. Believe me, I've had that conversation with him already when he started thinking about Gin-" Harry cut himself off.

Ron's head snapped in Harry's direction. "Please... finish that sentence," his voice woven with threat of what would happen if he didn't.

"I was just going to say I've had a talk with my godfather." Harry smiled innocently.

"When was he... How did..." Ron's face was turning red with rage. "You stopped him, right? I mean, he didn't get far, right? I mean, he didn't touch Ginny, right? Right?" His head was nodding furiously.

"Ron. He didn't touch Ginny. Calm down," said Harry slowly to his friend.

"Neville then?" Draco put forth to the room.

"Neville wouldn't do that to Hannah," added Harry his face unreadable. "He's too in love with her."

"Yeah." Draco answered shortly, the game now over. He got up and walked to Hermione's door. He knocked softly three times.

"Hermione? I heard a noise in there. Are you okay?"

Draco frowned at the silence that met him. He knocked harder.

"Hermione?"

Draco tried the knob, but it wouldn't turn.

"It's locked."

"Maybe she doesn't want to be disturbed. She's a grown woman. I hear that they like their privacy," suggested Ron, with a little smirk.

Draco frowned. "No. Something isn't right." He knocked loudly one more time but still there was no answer. Frustrated, he groped in his robes for a moment and pulled out his wand.

"Alohomora."

The door popped open a little and Draco pushed it the rest of the way.

He faced the balcony, nothing seemed out of place. "Hermione?" He asked waiting for her answer.

He heard a sputtering. He turned to find the sound and for a moment, Draco was shocked by the sight in front of him. Hermione was lying on her back, blood spilling from her mouth, terror in her eyes. Blood soaked her torn pink blouse and jeans and stained the floor around her. Draco rushed to her side, falling to his knees. Her eyes drooped closed as he reached her.

"Harry! Ron!" Draco yelled panic-stricken over his shoulder.

Draco heard a shuffle of feet as Harry and Ron scrambled to Hermione's bedroom. Ron's jaw dropped in shock and Harry's face paled when they saw Draco leaning over Hermione.

"What the hell," muttered Ron.

"Get Pomfrey now," Harry barked to Ron, who immediately turned on his heel and stumbled into the common room.

Harry appeared at Draco's side. Draco was staring down at Hermione, an unreadable expression in his cold gray eyes. He slowly pulled back a blood soaked torn piece of her shirt half covering her. He revealed her stomach, where she had been cut. Almost frantically, Draco ripped off his Armani cloak and pressed it to the wound, soaking up some of the blood.

In the back of his mind, part of Harry was shocked; he would never had thought that Draco would have been willing to ruin one of his favorite articles of clothing for anyone.

"Come on!" Harry urged him, surprised at the distressed tone of his own voice. "Heal her! I know you know how!"

Draco looked up at him with such a blank look that Harry thought for a moment that perhaps Draco hadn't even heard him.

Finally he blinked, and stood up, clutching his blood sopped robe in his hand. The deep crimson liquid stained a path down Draco's hands. "I can't heal it," he whispered, almost seeming to be speaking to himself.

Harry frowned at his blank expression and elbowed him out of the way, unable to rid himself of a tense, panicked feeling. Draco continued to stand stiffly behind him as Harry bent over Hermione's still figure, inspecting her. Her right arm stuck out oddly. Harry noticed bruising starting to form at the shoulder.

_Leave it,_ he thought to himself. _She'll survive that. Find out where all the blood is coming from._

With the blood wiped away, the gash on her stomach looked like an 'X'.

"I don't understand. It is a superficial wound. So where is all the blood coming from?" Harry pondered out loud.

He tried to gingerly turn Hermione but as he moved her he saw how stiff she was. Harry quickly pulled out his wand and muttered a counter curse. Hermione's body instantly went limp. He pocketed his wand and continued to turn her so she was almost on her stomach. He found the main source of all the blood. A stab wound near the base of her spine.

He heard running footsteps in the common room and looked up to see Ron frantically gesturing Madam Pomfrey into the room. She barely had a moment to catch her breath. "Oh, my word!"

"She was stabbed in the lower back," Harry said, turning Hermione back to her side. He stared at her face, pale except for the blood around her mouth. He remembered having similar dreams to this. Dreams where he couldn't do anything.

"Quickly!" Madam Pomfrey urged. She conjured a stretcher.

Harry scooped up Hermione, cradling her body as he took her to the stretcher. She was a lot lighter then he thought she should be and growing colder by the second. As soon as he laid her down, Madam Pomfrey whisked her away. She hurried through the common room with Hermione floating in front of her. Ron and Harry started immediately after them. Draco followed a second later, moving stiffly and mechanically.

When they reached the infirmary, Harry rushed to help Madam Pomfrey place Hermione on a bed. Madam Pomfrey promptly vanished the blood soaked stretcher. Draco and Ron stood in the doorway and watched them. Had anyone been watching him, they would have seen Draco looking at Hermione with a troubled and somewhat frightened expression. Madam Pomfrey ran to her office. She returned a moment later with a bottle of potion in her hand.

"Out! Out! All of you, out!" she exclaimed, hustling them out the door.

The three of them stared dumbly at the door of the infirmary as it was slammed in their faces.

"Hey guys? Do you know why there is blood on the floor? I saw it and I decided to see where it leads." Neville came up the hall to the three men but stopped suddenly when he saw Harry, looking worried.

"Harry! What happened to you? Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I am but..." Harry paused. "Hermione isn't."

"I don't know what happened," Draco said, speaking for the first time since they had left Hermione's room. "I found her on the ground and the blood was spreading..." His voice trailed off. He looked down surprised that he was still holding his robe.

"Who would do this? Who wants her dead?" Neville wondered out loud.

"Besides practically everyone in the Wizarding world? Our best guess would be Voldemort," replied Harry, worry stretching across his face.

"But why would Voldemort do this to one of his own Death Eaters?" Ron asked, looking down at Harry's bloodstained clothes.

Draco looked up when Ron asked his question. He watched as Neville walked up to Ron and punched him in the face. Ron fell onto his back. He sat up and lifted a hand to his face, looking positively shocked. Draco saw blood drip down Ron's chin. His lower lip was cut.

"What the hell did you do that for, Neville?" Ron, yelled still sitting on the ground.

"Hermione. Isn't. A. Death Eater," seethed Neville. His eyes were filled with the same anger.

"She betrayed us, Neville. Get over it. The only reason you are being so nice to her is because she got you out of a few tough spots back in school and you feel the need to repay her," replied Ron as he got to his feet.

Ron towered over Neville trying to intimidated him. Neville didn't back down.

"Hermione got you out of trouble a lot, too, if you don't remember," said Neville. He paused and sighed. "Fine. You believe what you want and I'll believe the truth."

Neville pushed passed them and walked into the infirmary, slamming the door shut behind him.

"I never thought I'd say this but Neville has a good right hook." Ron stood, rubbing his jaw before tentatively touching his lip.

"I'm going to get cleaned up," Harry said looking down at himself. He stalked off.

"I'm going to Hogsmead to go check on the twins," replied Ron, walking off as well.

Draco gave a shaky sigh. "I'll stay here," Draco said to himself since the hallway was void of his companions.

* * *

When Harry reached the common room he could see the blood trail that was left. He followed it to Hermione's room. There was blood all over the floor. Harry didn't know what he was looking for but he thought he should survey the room.

Walking carefully around the room he saw shoe prints. His and Draco's. He looked around to see if anything was out of place.

_Hermione couldn't have done this to herself,_ thought Harry_. Her wand is on the nightstand. If she had done this herself it would have been next to her. There would have been no guarantee that someone would have found her in time. It must have been someone else._ _How could someone get into Hogwarts and get out without being seen?_

"Invisibility cloak is out of the question. They'd have to use a password. And there are charms around the common room preventing silent intruders." Harry paused for a moment to think before continuing to talk to himself.

"An animagus wouldn't work because of the charms. Floo wouldn't work either. There was no fire and the room is slightly cold so it wasn't recently extinguished. Plus you can only leave by floo. I'll be sure to have Albus check the wards just in case."

He turned his gaze to the balcony doors and something caught his attention. The sunlight gleamed off the doorknob. He stepped closer. There was a smear of blood on the handle.

_Hermione was over there. No blood trail. Then the attacker was over here._

Harry examined the area more closely. He spotted a drop of blood out on the balcony. He grabbed the other door handle and stepped outside. He found another drop near the white marble railing. He leaned over and looked down. _There is always the possibility of broomstick_, he thought_. _He spotted another drop of blood on the railing.

"I'm pretty sure Hermione didn't come out here," said Harry, examining it.

Harry returned to the room, ready to leave when he gave the room one last look. His eyes fell on the bed where a small strip of white paper lay in contrast to the bright blue comforter. It rested next to her open wand box.

He crossed the room and picked up the paper.

_Welcome Home, Hermione._

Harry exhaled not realizing he was holding his breath. He turned the note over trying to find a signature. He couldn't find one. His eyes came to rest on her wand.

Harry reached down to it but stopped short of touching it.

_It's her old wand, _he thought, recognizing it easily. _Someone kept the pieces. Who would do that?_

Harry knew that snapped wands were burned. Puzzled, hepocketed the note, planning to run some spells over it later, and left the room.

* * *

Draco walked into the dark infirmary. He saw the bed that Hermione was resting on and headed straight for it. He stood by her bedside, staring at Hermione's unconscious form. His face was contorted with pain. Draco gently took her hand in his.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."


	9. Details

Hello everyone. I would like to apologize for the long delay of this chapter. There was a serious illness in my family that unfortunately resulted in a death. I thank you for your continued patience.

-SarahQuinn

Chapter 9: Details

"You have a hunch?" Albus asked. He sat at his desk and peered over his half-moon glasses with a watchful gaze.

"Yes," answered Sirius simply. A lax smile played with his lips.

"And you can't tell me?"

"Actually, I think the less people who know about it the better. It's best to have fewer witnesses, if you know what I mean," he said, his smile growing broader. His knee bounced up and down quickly from excitement. "Besides, I want to make sure the lead pans out before I get anyone else involved. It came from one of my more unsavory sources."

"I understand, but I advise you to not go alone. I believe Bill Weasley is available. Please take him with you and check in regularly," said Albus his voice was tight with reserve.

Sirius nodded and stood to make his exit.

"Sirius?"

"Yes, sir?" Sirius turned his blank face back to the older man.

"Be careful," pronounced Albus pointedly.

Sirius broke into a large grin. "I always am." He walked through the Headmaster's office and through the door.

* * *

Hermione sat across from the old woman in her living room. Her arm was out-stretched, palm up.

"Please," Hermione began. "Give it to me."

The old woman just sat on her couch, smiling and staring at her. She held a cup of steaming tea in her hands. Hermione watched as the woman brought the cup to her lips, sipping it gingerly.

"Why do you want it?" The woman asked when she was done swallowing. She set the cup down on the coffee table between them.

Hermione lowered her arm. Her gaze rested on the coffee table. It was littered with books that were tattered and beaten. Some were falling apart from the spine, others had no front or back covers. She recognized the language they were printed in was Latin.

The books were distracting her. The answer was in one of them. She knew it but she couldn't think. Why did she want it and what was it that she was asking for?

"Silly girl. You don't know, do you?" A sly smile lit up the woman's face. "You're not ready to know."

"I am!" Hermione yelled as she stood. Anger rushed through her veins. "Give it to me, now!"

The woman's smile widened as if she was pleased by Hermione's reaction. She stood slowly, facing Hermione, undaunted by her.

"No."

The woman reached into her robe, pulling from it her wand. She pointed it straight at Hermione. "You don't deserve it."

"It's mine," Hermione whispered, the word just spilling from her mouth. She knew nothing about what she was asking for but she felt in her soul that the words were true. Hermione was nearly crying from frustration.

"Not anymore," the woman answered. She moved her wand in a large arch, shouting a curse and aiming it at Hermione.

Hermione jerked awake from her dream, her body screaming in protest.

A bright stream of sunlight shined across her face as a buzzing filled her ears. As the moments passed Hermione realized it wasn't a buzzing but someone humming. Opening her eyes slowly to adjust to the incoming sun, she found a familiar sleeping figure in a chair next to her bedside.

"Parker?"

Hermione's voice was hoarse and barely audible, but even that was not soft enough for Madam Pomfrey to hear. The humming stopped as the relieved looking nurse walked around a large partition.

"Oh my. Dr. Granger, if you keep this up you'll soon beat Harry's record. And mind you, he almost put me in my grave in his seventh year." Madam Pomfrey quickly smiled at her but Hermione didn't return it. Bitterness crept into her mind as she thought about her first year of exile. Her former friends were here, learning and defending themselves. Madam Pomfrey, taking in her stony silence, busied herself by performing a few charms that checked Hermione's condition.

"Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione ventured after a moment.

"Oh please, call me Poppy, dear. We are colleagues now," she answered smiling at the younger woman.

"Poppy," Hermione began hesitantly. "What is Parker doing here?"

Parker stirred as if aware that she was mentioned. Hermione wondered if she had been asleep or only pretending.

Madam Pomfrey strolled across the infirmary to busy herself with more work.

"I'm here because I was worried sick about you," her voice was raspy with sleep. She cleared her throat as she stood and grasped Hermione's hand tightly. "You made a promise to stay in one piece. I'm afraid that I should have been more specific in my demands. You are not allowed to be hit, maimed, strangled, severely cursed, or shot. And yes I know the likelihood of guns being used in the Wizarding world is slim but I need to cover all the bases because apparently when I don't, this happens. Any means that can cause death or permanent injury that I did not mention are also off limits. Understood?"

Hermione nodded with trouble, her neck stiff. "I understand you but I don't understand what happened..."

Hermione began to sit up but her muscles protested with every movement. There was a dull throbbing pain on her abdomen and a not so dull pain in her lower back. Parker released her death grip of Hermione's hand and learned over to help but Hermione waved her away. Parker sat back down watching her friend's struggle with mild amusement. Finally she managed to get herself into a sitting position.

"Well, we were all hoping you would be able to tell us," replied the nurse. She had ambled back over to Hermione's bedside, arching a curious eyebrow.

Hermione's memories of that morning rushed to the forefront. Lucius Malfoy was alive, not killed by Snape, as Harry had told her. She remembered his threats and the shape he had cut into her. Her hand drifted to her stomach and gently rested it there. He had told her about a Death Eater meeting.

"I remember I just woke up and I was getting up to bathe. Someone grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth and I felt a sharp pain in my back. After that, I don't remember anything," lied Hermione.

"All right, dear. Please don't strain yourself. It will come back in time. I shall inform the Headmaster you are awake," said Madam Pomfrey. She left, pulling the partition so that Hermione and Parker had some privacy.

"What really happened?" Parker had her 'don't-you-dare-lie-to-me-Hermione-Granger-because-I-know-when-you-lie-to-me' look.

Hermione paused and looked at her friend. Parker had dark circles under her bloodshot eyes and her hair was a mess from sleeping in the chair.

"That's all I remember." A sick feeling filled her stomach. She looked away.

"Hermione...?" Parker said softly. Hermione risked a glance at her and saw a hurt look flash briefly over her face. Hermione couldn't look at the other woman. Instead, she pretended to examine her fingernails. She hated to lie to her, but she knew it would be best to keep this from her. Not getting her involved would protect her.

_She's already involved just by knowing you!_ Hermione thought bitterly. It wasn't intentional but Parker was in danger because of who she associated with. Hermione understood how it felt to be in Parker's position. All those years ago, being in danger because of who her best friend was.

Parker stood suddenly and spoke. "Fine. Don't tell me. But if you get beat up again, which you aren't allowed to, but if you do, you will tell me the whole story. Hermione, I mean it. I will bake a truth potion into those muffins I make that you can't resist. Got it?" She pointed her finger straight at Hermione emphasizing her message.

Hermione just nodded her head, too scared to speak.

"So... How are you doing? I mean besides nearly bleeding to death," asked Parker, her usual smile, albeit a little tight around the corners, in place. Her eyes were not holding her smile's joy.

"I'm fine," she answered tentatively. Hermione took a calming breath and pretended the previous tension had never happened. "I've seen a few old friends. Harry, Ron, Neville. Oh, guess what. Neville doesn't hate me. So that takes the total up to five."

"Wow. Five. Better than anticipated. But really, Hermione, you haven't been here a week and you are already drawing negative attention. I know it's not your people skills. Maybe it's the accent. It's not as thick as it used to be. Unless you've been into the tequila again. I don't think I need to mention Halloween three years ago," said Parker a glint of humor sparkling in her eyes.

"No! That won't be necessary." Hermione quickly exclaimed nearly jumping off the bed. Her body protested immediately.

Parker hugged Hermione as gently as possible then sat down on the bed beside her friend. "I'm glad you are okay," she whispered. "You don't know how scared I was when I saw Sirius in the kitchen."

"Sirius?"

"Yeah. He was leaning against the kitchen counter in that sexy leisurely way of his. I knew it was bad so I offered to make him dinner to keep him from talking. Then I threatened his life with salami when he persisted," Parker added sheepishly. "It would have been funny if the situation wasn't so serious."

"I can imagine," answered Hermione, smiling at the image.

The infirmary's double doors opened. Hermione and Parker both turned as Sirius entered, as if summoned by what Parker had said. Draco followed and they made their way to Hermione's bedside. They both smiled down at her, though Hermione noticed, Draco's was hesitant.

"I see you are all right," observed Sirius.

"No thanks to you." Parker leaned across Hermione and punched Sirius in the shoulder.

"Ow!" Sirius howled dramatically. He rubbed his shoulder where she hit him.

"Where the hell were you when she was bleeding to death?" Parker asked in her no nonsense tone.

"I was doing my job. I'm not her keeper, you know. Hogwarts is perfectly safe... Most of the time. I came and told you, didn't I? I brought you here too, and you punch me in gratitude!" Sirius's indignant voice filled the infirmary.

"Women have punched you for less. Does this really surprise you?" Draco asked, a bemused expression gracing his sharp features.

Sirius just stared at Draco. "I begged my dear cousin not to procreate with your father..."

"And I always wanted a pony but unfortunately my father had a passion for torture," remarked Draco, his expression unchanged. "It took a couple pets to figure that one out."

Hermione watched the exchange nervously. She couldn't read Sirius and even though Draco's expression seem light, she felt as though it was only on the surface. She wondered if Draco knew his father was still alive.

_He couldn't. _

"So... I'm Parker by the way. Hermione's friend and former roommate," Parker interceded, a note in her voice indicated to Hermione that she picked up on the underlying tension. She offered her hand to the younger man.

He took the offered hand. "It's good to meet you. I'm Draco. Old school enemy turned ally."

"Ally? Huh... I could make a naughty joke right now but I shall refrain." Parker smiled unabashedly. Her eyes raked over his body. Hermione knew Parker was imagining it was her hands and not her eyes.

Hermione remained in silence, unsure how her friends forwardness would be taken.

"On that note, I take my leave. I have business, other than looking after you, dear." Sirius gave Hermione a light pat on the head. "If you need to talk to anyone about being ostracized or whatever, Remus is available." His voice cheerful as if he was telling her to have a nice day. "He works at the Ministry, in the Dark Arts Antiquities Department."

"I will keep that in mind," Hermione answered hesitantly.

Sirius left without any further conversation. As he exited the infirmary, Albus entered.

"I'm glad to see you awake," Albus stated. "I was hoping to have a word with you. Alone that is, if you can allow that Miss Jensen. I promise Hermione will not come to any further harm today."

Hermione observed her friend's cautious gaze flit between her and the older man. After her third circuit she gave a brusque nod.

"I was only able to take one day off. You spent nearly the whole time sleeping so I have to get going. The Moreland wedding is this weekend. Remember what you promised, okay?" Parker leaned in for another hug.

"Okay," Hermione whispered, getting choked up. She released her friend.

Draco caught Parker's attention and nodded towards the door, indicating for her to precede him.

Albus continued as the door breezed shut. "I cannot explain what happened. Nor can I apologize enough. It has been a long time since these walls have been breached. I know nearly every inch of this castle. I have lived here for more than half of my very long life. It is my home and the home of so many good people. You like to think nothing can touch you while you're home but..." His voice trailed off. Hermione could see his disheartened face, understanding what he was going to say.

"There is a saying Parker says all the time. It's sort of her motto," Hermione started, a glint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Shit happens and then comes the fun part. It wasn't the first time I've been stabbed. Albeit this was the worst by far but we would get some agitated patients in the ER from time to time. I was stabbed and I'm alive."

"And I am glad for that. Losing you when we have just gotten you back would have been a tragedy."

Hermione remained quiet, not sure as to how to respond. Would it have been a tragedy because of the loss of her life or the loss of what she could do for them?

"I do need to discuss another matter with you. I apologize for the abruptness of it. The attack you and Neville witnessed in Diagon Alley resulted in the deaths of five people. One of those deaths was May Tobbletop, our Charms professor. I know this is too much of you to ask but I must. Instead of being an assistant Charms teacher, would you become the Charms Professor?"

"Sir..." Hermione tried to grasp the words from her surprised mind. "I know we went over this but I'm not qualified. I can't teach if I never even graduated. Being an assistant is one thing but being the main teacher is..."

"May was a good teacher. She always took extensive notes. You follow her lesson plan and you shall be fine. As for not graduating, I have a plan, with the exception of Charms, I have asked the other teachers to pitch in several hours a week to tutor you in an expedited seventh year lesson. They have all agreed. Yes, even Harry. Along with several good books that I have found, Draco and I will assist you with Charms. It will be rigorous but you are exceptional." Albus smiled, a glint in his eyes that made him look younger.

Hermione took a steadying breath. This was all coming at her too fast. "What if I say no?"

"You will continue your role as assistant and I will have to find a mediocre teacher, fully trained, whom you can surpass easily," responded Albus, same twinkle in his eye.

Hermione thought this out. _I can do this and finally graduate _or_ I can just sit and do nothing. _

"Fine," she answered quickly. "I'll do it. But you get to deal with all the howlers I'll get from the parents."

"I was already planning to do so, my dear." Albus retrieved his wand from his robes. He muttered a quick phrase, aiming it at the nightstand. A stack of books appeared. Hermione had to quickly reach out to stop the books from falling into her lap. Her arm muscles screaming yet again. "You should get started. You have a lot of reading to do."

With a swish of his robes, he was out the infirmary door.

* * *

"So you've known Hermione for a while?" Draco asked politely, making conversation.

"Seven years last June." Was the short reply. "And you? When did you meet her?"

"Uh... We were eleven, our first year here. She came by my compartment on the train to Hogwarts asking whether I had seen Neville's toad. As I recall, I sneered at her and told her to bugger off." Malfoy mused.

"Wow. Charming," said Parker in a monotone.

"As all Malfoys are..." Draco's coy smile turned down. His eyes became distant as if he was seeing something else. "She put me in my place in our third year. Smacked me clear across my face. Afterwards my jaw hurt for days."

"Were you there when she was banished?"

The question hung in the air for a minute. The hall was silent save for distant murmurs of the occupants in the castle paintings.

Draco finally faced Parker and responded. "My father forced me to go. He told me it would be a good experience to see how every aspect of our government works. I didn't find it that thrilling..."

"What didn't you find thrilling?" Ron asked as he walked up to the pair. Neville followed soundlessly. The misunderstanding of the other day obviously forgotten.

"Bondage," Parker answered promptly.

Ron's gaze turned to Draco, his expression uncomfortable. "Neville, can you obliviate me?"

"That wouldn't be the first time you've asked." Neville answered his friend, his tone was unmarked with any emotion.

"What?" Ron whined turning to Neville, his face was drawn with concern.

"How is Hermione?" Neville crossed his arms waiting for an answer.

"She's doing fine. A little sore but she will live despite someone's attempts to the contrary," stated Parker stiffly. She mirrored Neville's stance.

Draco saw that Parker was eyeing Ron suspiciously.

Ron apparently noticed, too. He offered his hand. "Hi. I'm Ron. You know, you look really-"

"Save your attempts at flattery. I knew who you were without the introduction," said Parker, attitude infusing every word.

"Whoa there. No need to attack a stranger." Ron put his hands up in surrender. "I'm guessing you are a friend of Hermione's. If you didn't know, Draco has done a lot worse to her than I have."

Draco eyed his friend seemly not surprised to be thrown under the broomstick.

"Yes but Draco was never Hermione's friend to start with. And Neville here isn't acting like an ass. They both are more welcoming than you. You need to take a time out and smell what you are shoveling. Because I think eight years is a long time to be shoveling the same old crap." Parker was gesturing with her hands, indicating when she spoke about each person.

"I'm not shoveling anything. I don't even own a shovel."

Parker took a step forward. "Yes you do. All men like you own shovels because they eventually need to dig out of the hole they've dug themselves into. You did much worse to her than Draco ever could. She trusted you. Obviously it was misplaced. I hope she learned from it."

She brushed passed him, huffing loudly.

"Parker, wait," Draco called, trying to hide a smile. "I'll walk you out. These halls can be tricky sometimes."

Ron and Neville stood in the hall. Ron baffled and Neville pensive.

"Do you own a shovel?" Ron asked, confused still.

"Ron... I think the last obliviate was one too many." Neville shook his head, bemused. "Think for a second... What do I teach?"

Albus appeared from the infirmary, his eyes alight. "I would refrain from a visit just now, boys. Hermione has a lot of work to do. She is fine."

"She agreed?" Neville asked the Headmaster, excited.

"We have a Charms teacher."

* * *

"I wanted to talk to you," said Sirius, as he stepped through the portrait of the common room. He motioned with his head to Harry's bedroom door, indicating that it was a private sort of conversation.

Harry looked around his completely empty common room. "I think we can talk in here."

His godfather gave him a stern look as he walked passed Harry and through his door. He made his way to the mantle of the fireplace. It was covered with pictures of friends and family, smiling and laughing to the camera. Sirius picked up one picture in particular. It was of James and him the summer after their third year.

In the picture James had Sirius in a chokehold and Sirius was bending back a couple of James' fingers on his free hand. Both were laughing so hard they had to let go of each other. They fell to the ground holding their sides. In the background was James' parents' house. A tall, sturdy looking Victorian, that had been with the family for a few generations. You could see James' mother on the porch leaning against one of the poles then backing out of the frame just to reappear moments later.

Harry entered his room and closed the door silently behind him. "Now that we're alone..."

"It was a shame you never met your grandparents. They were great people. They gave me a place to stay when I didn't want to go home. By our third year I was almost living with them over the summer. You know your grandfather actually made me a bed. Not conjured it but built it with his bare hands. He was a good carpenter. He told me once that it was like magic. He could create anything he wanted. Anything he could dream of but with carpentry he got more satisfaction with working the wood and paying attention to the details. He said 'you can see someone's soul in the details'." Sirius leaned against the mantle, staring off, lost in memory.

"You wanted to talk to me in private to discuss my grandfather's hobby of carpentry?" Harry asked confused.

"No," Sirius answered coming back to the present. "It's about Hermione."

"Sirius, I don't want to talk-" Harry started.

"Then you will listen!" Sirius responded forcefully as he pushed away from the mantle to stand in front of his godson. He took out his wand and uttered some words under his breath. The room glowed red for a moment, after which he continued. "Do you remember what you believed when you first found out about me? I was a traitor and a murderer. But you learned the truth. That it was Peter and not me that betrayed your parents. I wasn't a traitor anymore. I was your godfather. It didn't take long for you to warm up to me.

"Hermione's situation is different, I know. You knew her before you thought she betrayed you. I know it hurts when someone you care about betrays you like that. Believe me, I know better than most. What she is doing now is dangerous. She needs understanding from you."

Harry just stared at his godfather, mildly annoyed that he had decided to talk about it for the first time in eight years. Sirius hadn't been there when Hermione was banished. He had still been on the run and by the time he had returned Harry had formed an iron wall around his memories of her.

Harry loved Sirius. He was the only real parental figure Harry had ever known. But that didn't make him a candidate for best father of the year. Of course he could talk to him about anything. Except the subject of her.

"I didn't know research was so dangerous... Then again parchment cuts can be quite painful," Harry said, his irritation sewn into his voice. "I can give her civility but not understanding."

Sirius hung his head for a moment. When he spoke again, his gaze was unwavering on Harry's. "I know I'm not supposed to tell you this, but unlike Albus, I don't enjoy keeping secrets from everyone. There are only three people other than myself who know this and, Harry, you need to be the last. Not Ron or Neville or Draco can hear this," explained Sirius. His voice was strong with the importance of his words. "I want you to know because sometimes all of Albus and Arthur's good intentions get people hurt."

Harry's annoyance was gone. The way Sirius was speaking kept his tongue still. His witty retorts were forgotten.

"I have the utmost respect for them but Albus knows the game and how to play it. That is what he is using her for." Sirius paused, taking a breath. "They asked Hermione to become a spy."

Harry swallowed and his breathing stilled. He nodded for Sirius to continue.

"She already has a Dark Mark and ever since Snape has been out of the picture, we've been drowning. He was the best source we had," admitted Sirius through gritted teeth. "You know what Voldemort is capable of. We need someone to get close and Hermione has an opportunity to do so. Albus would be a fool to not seize this chance but I still have concerns. I know you may not care like you once did but I would feel better if there was at least one person that doesn't only think about the war in this situation. The day we stop caring about what happens to those that are risking their lives for a better world, is the day we turn into him."

"Why are you telling me this?" Harry asked. His anger was now an afterthought. Fear began to rise in him. It felt like Sirius was saying good-bye.

Sirius took a moment before he answered. "You have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You stopped me from killing Peter, even after you knew he betrayed your parents. You didn't want me become a killer because of him. Now, I know you're not that boy anymore, but if you could find a piece of him. If you could look at Hermione through his eyes, I would feel better leaving."

He continued, answering Harry's unasked question. "I'm going to follow a lead I have. Don't worry, Bill is coming with me. I wanted you to know all of this because I've wished many times that you weren't in the middle of it. But I have finally learned the inevitable. I've learned that keeping secrets will only hurt you, not protect you. I swore to your parents I would always protect you. I need you to not push her and if she needs help, help her." Sirius held up a hand as Harry began to protest. "Harry, I don't know what I would be now if you hadn't been here. You've kept me as sane as I am after everything I've lost. I keep thinking about that when I think of Hermione's situation. I need you to do this for me. If she doesn't have someone here to keep the focus, he _will_ destroy her and you will have truly lost her. If you don't care about her that is fine, I'm not asking you to do that. I am asking you to watch. You lose her, we are all dead!"

Silence filled the room as Sirius' words sunk in. Harry was unsure, though, which _he_ Sirius was referring to.

"Why her? Why did it have to be her?" Harry questioned when he could find the words.

"I don't know," answered Sirius gently shaking his head. "I wasn't told the why. In fact, I probably wouldn't even know if it wasn't for Hermione. She talked to me the day Arthur told her the plan. I put my two knuts in, so to speak." He gave a suggestive look and barked a peal of laughter.

Harry looked at the other man, horrified. "That, I think, is the worst thing that has ever escaped your mouth."

"Harry! Have you looked at her? Or has this war blinded you to the sight of attractive women? She has changed into a striking young woman. She's confident, intelligent, and quiet brazen when the occasion calls for it."

"Are we done? I mean if you want to follow that lead, you may want to start now," Harry said quickly, making his way to the door.

"I'm sorry," Sirius voiced still chuckling to himself, seemingly not at all repentant. He pulled Harry into a hug, patting him hard on the back. "I only stated the obvious."

He released Harry only to grab his face in his hands. "I'll be back soon. Don't get into too much trouble while I'm gone. Relay that message to the boys. I don't want to go off having to save your sorry bums."

"Ha. You need to say that to a mirror," taunted Harry. He paused, his stomach churning as he realized this was a good-bye. "I will tell them."

"Good man," said Sirius, playfully slapping his cheek. He took out his wand, muttering something else under his breath and the room glowed again for a brief second. He lit the fireplace with another flick of his wand and grabbed some powder from a stand next to it. He tossed the powder in and turned back to his godson. "Please Harry, see the details. I couldn't see them last time. I regret it every day."

Sirius stepped into the fire, shouted his destination and was gone.

Harry sank onto his bed, Sirius' last words hitting him in the chest. Sirius knew exactly what it was like to be betrayed by a friend and the consequences that followed.

Harry knew everything his godfather had told him was true. During wars, those in charge strategized to come out victorious; some didn't care what it took. Voldemort was like that. Harry knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he had to stoop that low. It wouldn't make him any different from the creature that had taken so much from him.

"I promise, Sirius," he uttered to the empty room.

* * *

Draco sat stalk-still in the common room, in his favorite chair. The lively fire cast dancing shadows in the corners of the room. He stared gloomily at the flickering flames, lost in his thoughts.

_It's too soon,_ thought Draco, still unmoving from his position. _It's too soon. Everything is going to go wrong now._

"Draco?"

Draco jumped up off his chair and turned around to face Harry, who was leaning against the wall. He was very disturbed by the fact that he had not heard Harry's approach.

"Draco? Are you all right?" Harry asked with concern, taking a step towards him.

"Yes...yes," answered Draco, running a hand nervously through his hair. He continued, "I'm perfectly fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you don't seem like yourself lately. Ever since Hermione got hurt you've been... twitchy," said Harry. He plopped down in the chair Draco had just vacated, and gave him a penetrating stare.

"I'm not twitchy," Draco protested quickly, shifting his weight and looking away from his sharp green eyes.

"Then why are your hands shaking?" Harry threw back at him gently.

Draco slowly brought his hands up in front of his face. He saw that Harry was right. His hands were trembling slightly. Draco looked up at Harry and began to explain, "I... well, I am just concerned. About Hermione and her safety. About ours, in our own home. If Vol...Voldemort did this to Hermione, then he will probably try to do it again."

"Maybe. Or maybe she did it herself to make us think the Voldemort wants her dead," answered Harry promptly and nonchalantly, now gazing into the fire, his eyes unreadable.

Harry didn't believe Hermione attacked herself. He had become guarded over the years and very seldom, even with his closest friends, did he express his true suspicions. Harry had felt the sting of betrayal many more times than he cared to admit. He had learned that keeping suspicion in the back of his mind could keep him alive.

"She didn't do that to herself!" Draco exclaimed. Realizing he said this aloud, he swiftly turned his back to Harry.

Harry shifted noisily in the chair. He looked up and stared at Draco, focusing on his involuntary movements. He continued on the whim, wanting to know why Draco was acting so strange. "Draco, she's an intelligent person. She's also dangerous. One thing I have learned through this war is anyone is capable of anything," said Harry seriously. He forced a chuckle then, and continued, "You know, it's funny that you, of everyone in this castle, is defending her. It's the opposite of what I thought you would have done. It's strange really. Why are you doing it? Defending her?"

Draco thought for a moment before answering. He frowned. "You and Ron gave me another chance. Even after everything that I had done and said to you. You still gave me a second chance. I guess I just don't understand why you wouldn't give that to Hermione."

Draco turned back to stare at Harry. In turn, Harry shifted his gaze to the ground.

"The situation with Hermione is different," Harry answered. "You proved yourself trustworthy. She hasn't."

"You gave me another chance when I didn't deserve one. I want that for Hermione," said Draco kindly. He started walking towards his room, but as he passed Harry, he paused and rested a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Give her a chance. You won't regret it."

_Why did I do that? Do I really feel that way?_ Draco asked himself when he got to his room.

_Draco, they are making you soft, _answered his cold and familiar voice. _Play the part you were given. Nothing more._

Draco picked up a book off his night stand. He lowered himself onto his bed. He lounged on the bed, leisurely flipping through the book with a familiar smirk on his face.


End file.
